//------------------------------// // Let's Find A Tank! Everyone Is Lucky! // Story: Mares und Panzer // by re- Yamsmos //------------------------------// "So... just around here, she said?" "Well, that's what she said but..." He took a second to dispel a breath of air into the rolling wind and thereafter aptly clucked his tongue. "...I'm not seein' a thing." "Just keep at it, girls! We'll find something." Oh, they'd find something. If they were out here looking for a wide expanse of thick, tall, dew-speckled grass, a rather sizable ditch laden with a mess of sharp branches and splintered tree logs more akin to a spider's dastardly web, or the prospect and dare-she-admit pride of trodding through the deep woods slick with mud and puddles, they were surely in luck. As it was, there was nothing else around as far as Duck could make out, so their scouting mission might have been better off in search of fuel for a bonfire. Standing just at the edge of the forest clearing, her jacket still spotted with assorted pine needles, twigs, and the occasional drop of leaf water, Duck sucked in a breath and let it out once she'd realized she was choking herself. Sputtering like she'd just smoked a cigarette, she held a hoof up to her mouth and, apparently, covered for Arco, who had cursed at that exact moment after seemingly stabbing himself with the end of a tree branch. Flurry turned his way and scowled, the two of them currently picking through the ditch stretching about twenty feet or so to the left and right directly in front of them. Duck hadn't been looking where she was going as they emerged from the brush, and, while simultaneously discovering the trench line, was practically inches from tumbling into it before Flurry's magic yanked her away by the force of her entire body back onto precious dirt. Duck hadn't had much experience with being violently levitated before—having been born into an all Earth Pony family—and was still in the process of gathering up her bodily fluids before they spilled out of her in a sickly projectile onto the grass. Feeling the slightest bit queasy, she brought a hoof up to her stomach and rubbed at it absent-mindedly, her mind diverting from her sickliness and to the large matter—or, well, she guessed five matters—at hoof. Mrs. Red had been... noticeably—understandably, looking back on it—hesitant and painfully slow in admitting that, as it turns out, the previous Tank Warudo team from Ponyville High School didn't have a lot of... team spirit, and simply abandoned their assigned tanks in various, random places around town and just outside of it after the results of their final match against Griffonstone. Combined with a general bitterness and the sudden hospitalization of their Commander, they'd left their vehicles empty on fuel and completely uncared for in appearance, which the three or so years of dormancy only took terrible advantage of. The others in the class may have gone blindly along with Mrs. Red's explanation, not really knowing any wiser, but Duck's expansive history with the sport helped her delve a bit deeper than that. The last loss against Griffonstone had been a major blow to Ponyville, and while the Horsepowers did take their tanks out for ruthless joyrides that were the opposite of joyful only to ditch them, it wasn't just out of diesel-injected anger and general soreness at the loss itself. They did it to ensure that Ponyville would never have to compete again. Or want to. Or even be able to. Duck would have called it a genius idea—and actually had the first few seconds after realizing it—if she hadn't been sent on a search-and-rescue mission actually searching for and rescuing the abandoned tanks. The A34 Comet was quickly found out to have been the only tank anywhere near the school grounds, and so Duck, Flurry, Arco, and the rest of the class had been sent off to find the other four before Luna's Object arose in the blue sky, which still shone a bright, vibrant blue as Duck looked its way and minded the wispy, long, puffy, and stringy clouds that had just missed its target of Ponyville proper. The sun, about a quarter of the way down from its position straight up in the noon sky, caused her to raise a hoof up and shield her eyes from danger. It must have been at around two in the afternoon, if her Godsawful math skills were of any use to her at the moment. School would be getting out soon, but, as Mrs. Red had put it, this was to be their "first assigned homework," which was pretty much an obvious workaround to have them keep searching high and low for the tanks even after after hours. Which she guessed would be, like, on hours. Stupid. It was just like studying for a test or scribbling away at an English essay, except this time—besides the fact that Duck was actually doing it—her point of interest and absolute focus was dead set on a nigh ten-ton explosive war machine that could've been anywhere from right in front of their faces at the foot of a ninety-degree cliffside to buried under their hooves in a totally collapsed cave section. Emphasis on her's, as it seemed that the rest of their search party apart from Arco and Flurry wasn't so keen on the whole "search" part. She realized she'd misplaced Bluebell, and turned around to find the Earth Pony quartet behind her standing around, idly conversing with one another like they were waiting for class to start. Pursing her lips, Duck swiveled back around and watched to see if Bluebell had somehow snuck past her and vaulted down into the ditch to help the other two investigate the nothing pile of nothing, then, finding nothing, about-faced once more, her mind evidently working hard to get her to collapse in a daze. The four "hipsters", as Bluebell had called them with a mutter under her breath as they began heading out, stood on respective picnic blankets stitched with four different patterns in a lenient two-by-two pattern resembling a slightly misshapen square, humming to themselves as they presented their rears to the scorching sunlight and stretched forward as far as they could muster, like they were in a quiet gym in the corner of town and not on an itchy, grassy, cold field. Where... what? When had they... Duck had sworn she'd heard something about a Down Syndrome dog—which sounded horribly crude—before the four had suddenly snapped into their poses, but she had been on the brink of vomiting then and hadn't had either the ear or the time to listen to them. Now reassuringly well off and safe in her little stomach, however, she could do nothing but listen to them as they harmonized with a single, relatively high note and hummed it to the point of sounding like a collection of a colony of bees. Duck looked around in a panic just to make sure. She was... somewhat sure that she had an allergy of sorts. Somewhat. The one bearing the flower crown, her poofy blonde mane almost grazing the grass beneath her blanket, led the quartet in their now obvious yoga session, slowly inching forward on her four hooves and placing her cardigan-crested stomach against admittedly soft-looking cloth with a long, serene sigh. The others, following suit perfectly in time with her, joined her still in returning to their prior positions and remaining fixated on the ground directly below them. Duck abruptly became aware of a struggle in the masses, as the mare behind Miss Flower Crown began shaking, at first almost unnoticeable and then unmistakably, violently, in her right hindleg. Gritting her teeth and letting out a grunt, she reached a hoof up to stop her glasses from falling off her deeply crinkled nose and practically stomped back into formation, seemingly agitated with her own lack of control. Miss Flower Crown spoke up finally, her voice gentle and honestly angelic, "Candle Light, dear, you need to..." She trailed off, pushing her stomach forward once more and breathing out, "...cleanse your body of all impurities. Relax, and... hoo... focus." Candle Light, shutting her eyes at once, sucked in a long breath and let it out after five whole seconds. Duck realized she had been, involuntarily, doing the same, and looked away before any of the four could somehow take notice from behind their two eyelids. The four settled back into a normal standing position on all-fours, wiping their hooves on their jackets and flinging sweat from their brow quietly. Miss Flower Crown, leading the others in balancing on their right legs alone and stretching their lefts toward the sky, spoke up once more. "It appears that we have an audience, girls." Was she supposed to be doing something else? How could she have avoided watching them? They were practically two feet from each other. Duh, idiot. You could have gone down to help Flurry and Arco. Why didn't you do that? Duck fidgeted. "You are Duck Bill, if I'm not mistaken?" A hoof went up to screw with her mane. If she nodded, would Miss Flower Crown even notice? She decided to test it. Sure enough, the mare's smile widened. "Namaste, Duck Bill," she said with everlasting breath, as if every single one she took was one to cherish and hold onto for as long as was earthly and bodily possible. Duck could hold her breath for about five whole seconds before feeling like she was about to pass out, so the idea wasn't too odd to her. The mare returned to all fours and finally looked Duck's way. "Sweet Tea." Sweet tea? She wasn't really a tea kind of pony, but she could drink it if they offered. Did they have some nearby? Where were they hiding it? Were they going to pull fine china out of their backpacks as well? The one with the beanie waved. "I'm Pine Needle." Oh they were talking about their names. A hoof almost went up to thunk her head. Idiot. Idiot. Her hooves still caked with different splotches of paint, the other one grinned. "Vanilla Pudding." Pine snickered. Vanilla shot her a glare and, flashing her teeth, raised an arm to approach Pine, who flinched away with a howl of laughter. The unfocused one touched her chest, reaffirming, "I'm Candle Light, but I suppose that Sweety already spilled the beans on it." Beans, too? How much stuff did they have in their backpacks? ... Oh Gods now they were all looking at her. Complete strangers who'd given her a rather peaceful embrace, and yet she hadn't a single word or conversation starter to give them. Should she start by asking them how old they were no that would be weird and intrusive what did ponies her age call it it was like an ice pick or something something with ice she needed one right now to break up whatever awkward wall of stone was being erected in between her and the quartet it probably looked just like her with her name written right underneath for everypony to see Gods say something! A voice in the distance rose in volume for a brief second before quieting back down again to general mumbles. Sweet Tea, recoiling at its peak, looked toward the source and swept a hoof its way. She regarded Duck with an odd look that—even having barely known her—appeared completely out-of-place on her light-colored face, "I think I heard that that one is... Bluebell?" Duck looked over at Bluebell, who was currently in the middle of picking up rocks from a massive pile next to her, which she threw at a nearby oak tree idly but with obvious, accurate intent. Oh Gods she'd have to be inside a tank with her all year... "Isn't she a Unicorn?" Duck flushed her cheeks, train of thought diverted away from the cliff it had been chugging toward. "Y-yeah," she said like she was more than slightly unsure of the answer. A low humming caught Duck's attention, giving her a way out, and she swiftly glanced about to face it with a sideways frown. Flurry, her magic throwing up a stick about half the length of her body, caught Arco's hoof. Arco, caught off-guard by the apparent weight gain, fell to his stomach, stabilized himself, and pulled Flurry up from the depths, where she stuck out her tongue like she'd smelled something rancid and began brushing the brambles from her sleeves. Arco dusted himself off. "Well, nothing in there," Flurry began, her horn letting go of the stick and going to pick the sticks out of her mane. She continued to speak, as if the concentration better spent not tearing her hair apart was nothing to her, "Think we can go back and tell Mrs. Red we didn't have any luck?" On the subject of simply abandoning their search, Duck did have a lot of homework that desperately needed doing, checking, rechecking, and editing—namely from her History class, as her teacher seemed to expect a Senior-level of non-stop dedication for a first-week five-slide presentation on her assigned location—but, well... Arco and Flurry were out here, and she was much too afraid to go and ask them if they wanted to head out because they might think that she didn't want to be around them, something both astronomically untrue but also kind of necessary if she were to actually get it all done by the night's end... oh Gods she was a horrible friend. Slurrrp. Duck raised a brow and looked at Pine Needle, who was in the process of chugging from a steaming coffee cup cuffed with a brown, cardboard sleeve bearing what looked to be two 2's intersecting upside-down. Where were they getting these things?! "Aaah, ahem, I think she'd probably see through our massive bull, but it might be worth a shot," Pine agreed, smacking her lips to rid herself of the heat assuredly collecting at the roof of her mouth. "Far as I can tell," Arco chimed in, scratching his nose audibly, "there's not much out here besides trees and grass. Doubt we'd find anything concrete, let alone metal." In the corner of Duck's eyes—as she'd respectfully turned to look at Arco when he started speaking—she noticed that Pine Needle, Candle Light, Sweet Tea, and Vanilla Pudding had all gone bug-eyed and alligator-lipped. Flurry noticed it too, and made a motion to silently ask the four if she was the focus of attention. Arco noticed Duck's noticing, and then Flurry's noticing, and then Flurry's motion, and then finally the hipsters' expressions. He blinked. "Uh... yeah?" "Wait, you're a guy?" Vanilla asked at once. At once, Arco's face fell flat, and he looked at Duck with what appeared to be one of absolute, Godsless betrayal. Or he just really needed to go to the bathroom. Pine snickered. Sweet Tea covered her muzzle with a hoof. Vanilla noticed the tension, and more-than-just-slight rudeness, and scratched her neck incessantly, "We... legitimately didn't know," she dug her hole further. Arco bore more strength than Duck could ever dream of having, and simply smiled through the misunderstanding, "Arco Piano." He brought up a hoof to shake Pine's, which was closest to him despite being buried in her blanket now tossed up in a heap. Pine graciously accepted it, giving him a wink and ending the gesture with a hoof bump. Arco swept his still-outstretched foreleg across the way, at Flurry. "That's Flurry Heart." Flurry bounced her mane with a giggle, "Pleasure to meet you all." Duck stared at the ground. Gods, where would she be without Arco and Flurry by her side? She knew where she was every other class period she had where they were absent—which was, literally, every other class period she had—hiding in the back and never raising her hoof in fear of actually getting called on because nopony else did the same out of general laziness. "So... Duck," Pine hesitated as if the name was something to shy away from barely mentioning, which, honestly, wouldn't surprise her as being some kind of rule in a household or two, "that nose of yours out of commission?" Duck had had a bit of an unwanted advantage when it came to searching for tanks, as the distinct smell of motor oil and machine gun grease was more than perfectly familiar with her, and so she'd led the pack through the muggy woods like some kind of bloodhound on a raccoon's scent until the trail had gone unfortunately-but-also-kind-of-fortunately cold... which had ended up being exactly where they were all still currently standing about. Believing the source of the oil and grease to be lying in the shadowed depths of the branch-stuffed ditch, Arco and Flurry were quick to hop in to look, while the others promised a lookout for anything else of note. "Well, if she smelled anything, I don't doubt another mile or so trek," Vanilla piped up, bringing up a hoof and rolling it around at the wrist. Candle Light pointed across the field at a distant, long, leafless black stick protruding from the ground. "There appears to be a tree over there, but apart from that, there's not a telltale sign of anything else..." "Is this even mapped out territory?" Vanilla asked Flurry, who had been given the map of the country—a very, very safe idea. Pine snorted, "Yo-o-o-o, did we go off the grid?" Vanilla looked at Pine with an instant whip of her head and, clenching her eyes as tightly as a sphincter, went into her head voice. "Off the gri-id!" Pine joined in, mimicking the mare's expression, "In the treeeeeetops!" Candle screwed up her face and now resembled a bruised pear. "Gods, you two would like that album." "Album's okay, but that song... wew!" Vanilla hugged herself. Duck... knew what it looked like. "Put that one on repeat!" Arco caught her attention, leaning over and eyeing up the hipsters as they continued gushing about something that sounded Prench. "Anything at all?" Duck gave a sniff of the air to act coyly, then wrinkled her nose as she noticed the strong perfume wafting from Sweet Tea nearby, bearing a mark similar to some kind of coastal, mountainous pine forest very far apart from the other kind of forest smell she and the others—she assumed—were now soaked with, emanating, and wholeheartedly regretting. Turning her head in both a genuine reaction and a tactical maneuver, she caught... something from way down... somewhere... Oh... oh Gods, now it was getting stronger, why was it getting stronger? Exposed oil... and the sticky residue of unmanaged and unmaintained machine gun grease. Duck sniffed again, this time much heavier than she would've liked doing. Pine took the opportunity in a flash, spreading her forelegs and lowering herself to the ground with a wild grin. "What's that, Duck?" Flurry gave her a hushed, "Shut up," as Duck moved her head around and scanned her surroundings. It wasn't coming from back in the forest, because that's where all of the animal feces and rainwater were being forcefully and aggressively ignored by her at the moment, and it wasn't coming from further down along the skirts of the woods either... Duck faced directly ahead, toward the expansive field stretching out before them all. Pine groaned overdramatically. Flurry actually hid her own dismay by tilting her head and pretending to fix her mane that was still just as perfect as ever. Bluebell called from her artillery battery, a hoof against the side of her mouth, "Hey! We doing something?!" Nopony answered the Unicorn or even gave her a glance, and so she grumbled a very loud, gravelly grumble, flung one of her rocks onto the grass, and started their way at a jogging pace. Duck coughed into a hoof and shook all over all of a sudden, then waved said hoof and crisply reported, "I think there's something across the way." She waited for somepony to move up and take the lead, but not a single person moved from their spots, either patting the ground idly, humming a whole-note brimming song, fixing their mane, or just standing about, waiting for movement just as she. Flurry, sensing the pause, just barely lifted a foreleg to begin moving before quickly putting it back down, placing it into the dirt, shaking her head softly, and turning to smile at Duck. She nudged her head to her right, across the field. Oh Gods Flurry wanted her to do it?! Duck sucked in a long breath of air that about caused her to burst from inside or violently implode, then slowly pushed it out, catching the others' attention due to its rather—accidental—high volume. Oh Gods what if she tripped or what if she kind of half-stumbled forward like she didn't know how to walk they'd probably think the same they'd probably think she didn't know how to walk but then how did she get all the way out here without assistance of any kind well maybe she was just lucky or some kind of one hit wonder only able to make it a certain distance before falling like she had that one rare Pegasus disease where you shook like an earthquake if you stood on your legs but could hover and fly and zip and zoom and scoot and hover again with the simplest of ease did she have the Earth Pony version of that wait but if she did she wouldn't be able to do anything because Earth Ponies were built to use their legs and if her legs didn't work she'd be a vegetable or in her case a slab of thin bone-on meat but if her legs didn't work she probably would have been confined to a wheelchair long ago but what if it was like a brain tumor and it would just pop up one day no stop that! "Um..." Duck cleared her throat. "This way." She took a step forward, and then another, and then another, and then another, and now she was walking okay she was walking she was doing well oh there goes everypony else she was walking okay good thank the Gods. "So you guys find much in that ditch?" Vanilla asked somepony. Duck turned her head to answer, then realized she hadn't been in the ditch, which was more a trench than anything else, if they were going to be accurate... "More a trench than anything else," Arco replied, "but, no, nothing but spider webs and brambles. Think I found a dead body though. Must've been where my dad went all those years ago." Pine giggled. Sweet Tea asked, "What of your... stick, Flurry?" Flurry hummed a single note, then dropped it immediately. Her horn began to take up her pastime. "I just like sticks." That tree Vanilla had seen... they were getting closer to it with every step, and it looked like a thin tree with all of its branches and leaves torn from it, which would make sense, seeing as how if there were any kinds of wind patterns rushing through the plain, it would rain a special kind of heck upon the lone log, but it looked almost... too straight? Maybe she was seeing things that weren't there. "Hey, Duck, can you, like, tell what kind of tank it is just by its smell?" The stench was more peculiar than most other tanks she'd caught whiffs of her in her years, and immediately brought back memories of her boarding school, but it was just at the edge of a carbon copy, so... if she had to, she would have to guess Equestrian or Crumpish make, as their proximity and love of sharing tools led to mixings of parts, ideas, and, more on the subject matter, oils. Both the griffons and the yaks had found magical ways for their motor oils to bear no foul stench—possibly a method to avoid being pounced upon by a greenhoof with a barely passable sense of smell—so it couldn't have possibly been either of them. "I would have to say it's definitely one of ours." Good start. "However, Griffonia stole many things from us, one of them being our prized oils during their night raids over here, so, if we're lucky, it could be a Griffonian Panzerkampfwagen V Panther for all I know!" Bad! Bad! Now you've raised their hopes up! Idiot! "All I got was 'Panther'," Pine admitted, "anypony else?" "Panzerkampfwagen V. That's the Romane numeral for 'five', if you didn't know, Pine," Candle answered her, "literally meaning 'armoured combat vehicle' with a designation of five." "Is that the same as a tank?" Duck opened her mouth, then shut it. Actually, even she was kind of hoping it turned out to be a Panther. Having a good Griffonian tank as their backbone could prove to be a very effective way to prioritize targets and cause distractions. Adding on, its 75mm cannon would make a great ally for them and a terrifying opponent for others, able to take down practically any kind of tank it could face its barrel toward if it actually managed to do so without getting seen and immediately thereafter lit up like some kind of metallic Hearth's Warming tree. The Panther/not Panther odds were incredibly stacked against her—a daunting one-to-one-million ratio—but she held out for as long as it took her to take notice of the black, leafless "tree" once more. They approaching it more rapidly now, thanks to her own trotting pace, and it was now very, very obvious... "That's one hell of a tree," Vanilla cursed from behind her and to her right. Duck now found that she was moving at a very small incline toward the crest of what she noticed to be rapidly softening and faltering ground. The "tree" stood at an odd angle away from Duck just at the edge of an outstretching of thick grass, and as she grew closer, its identity worked its way from her eyes, to her brain, stayed there awhile, and finally moved to her mouth, where it waited to be stuttered and jumbled out awkwardly and stupidly into the world she occupied. "What is it, Duck?" Flurry asked. Duck brought up a hoof and rapped on the side of the "tree". It was hollow, just as she'd expected. She turned about at the waist and addressed the crowd of seven. "It's no tree." Her hoof went back to it. "It's a cannon. A Vickers Quick Firing 2-Pounder to be exact." She returned to face the cannon, and rubbed her chin, "Which brings to question what it's attached to..." She trailed off as she took a step forward, lifted her hoof, and attempted to test the ground to see if, in the off chance, something was buried underneath that they could bring a few shovels back over to and dig out after an hour or so of work. What she didn't expect was for the entire hill of earth to, in a snap, fall away from her like an age-old artifact finally in the hooves of a long-lost-tomb explorer, where it crashed in one whole deafening noise and kicked up dust in its wake that completely blinded Duck and the others as to the heavily anticipated contents of the newfound hole in the floor. Realizing that if she looked over the edge at the moment she'd be staring right down the business end of a barrel, Duck trotted over to her right a couple feet and stared down into the abyss... that was actually about twenty feet down. First, Flurry rested her head on Duck's left shoulder. Arco followed on the other shoulder. Pine Needle, judging by her grunts of displeasure, was standing on her tippy-hooves to look over Arco's head. Candle Light squeezed in from underneath Flurry. Sweet Tea simply stood next to Duck, completely out of the way. Vanilla Pudding did a little hop onto Pine's back and crawled forward to look from atop her beanie. Bluebell shoved her way next to Sweet Tea and grinned into the hole, the Earth Pony completely calm despite the screwing-up of her blessed flower crown. Pine Needle was the first to audibly, noticeably, breathe, and actually move. "Whoa, are those Atari cartridges?" She slid backward like a retreating cobra, causing Vanilla to collapse onto the ground in a heap and an oof! Sweet Tea tutted, shaking her head. "Trash, trash, and more trash." She disappeared from view and reappeared right behind Pine Needle as they began to descend down the large pile of rocks on the opposite side of the hole. Arco raised an eyebrow. "People really throw away their TVs here?" He lifted his head from Duck's shoulder and went toward Tea and Pine, muttering, "Wonder if they've still got HDMI cables..." Vanilla, having finally risen from her fall of complete and utter annihilation, let out a gargantuan gasp. "Car wheels! I could use those for my project!" She fled the "viewing deck" in a cloud of dust and pushed past Arco to get down as fast as possible. Pine was already sitting on her haunches, picking up little black boxes amidst scatterings of plastic bags and assorted garbages and examining each one of them with clear intent. "Heh," went Bluebell next to her, who didn't even acknowledge her even being there as she exclaimed, seemingly to herself, "wonder if there're still some bullets left in those cans..." Duck looked at Flurry once she'd gotten off her shoulder. Candle Light adjusted her glasses and raised a brow Duck's way, as if she were about to speak. Duck lifted her chin in case she was, but Arco's voice called out to her from inside the collapsed cave. "Hey, Duck?! Think you might wanna see this." She minded the tank cannon as she went around the hole's rim, watching as more and more of it and its attached body was uncovered in her turret ring-like rotation. The slightly raised turret itself and its massive cupola were the first things Duck noticed once the figure was in full view, and only once she'd dropped down onto the crumbled earth next to her classmates did she finally, audibly, make her observations, apart from noting the obvious fact that the entire tank itself was facing toward the sky, as if its crew had backed it into the hole and simply hugged the side wall it had made contact with. "Christie suspension, four spaced-out roadwheels, angled turret..." She narrowed her eyes and took a step toward it. "That would be a Crumpish Cruiser Mark IV A13. No mistaking it. These were to be used in Operation Bear Tram had Crumphill needed to employ it in Zebrica against Rommel." Flurry lit her horn. Duck looked at her. "It may look light, but that's about fifteen-tons on that." Flurry extinguished it. Oh great now she'd just made a fool out her own friend, and Flurry for that matter, the intelligent one who always knew what to do in every situation. Good job being snippy, idiot. Now she hates you. "We're supposed to call Mrs. Red if we find a tank, aren't we?" Vanilla asked, coming out from behind Arco. Flurry nodded, then motioned for Sweet Tea to approach her. Lighting her horn once more and enveloping Tea's backpack in a majestic glow, Flurry pulled out a folding stool—which she promptly unfolded and nestled in the rock below her—and their telephone, the latter of which she took hold of the hoofset and dialed numbers into before asking, "Hello, Mrs. Red? We found a tank. Mhm. Asking for pick-up, I, uh, guess. Yes, ma'am. Thank you." She placed the hoofset against the switch hook with an audible thunk and, as she began placing everything back into Sweet Tea's backpack, told them, "A trailer's gonna be here soon to pick the tank up. I guess that includes us as well." "So," Pine called from her spot still sitting in the middle of the cartridge graveyard, "we're just waiting now?" "Yup," Vanilla responded, fidgeting with the messy bun in her mane. "At least it's not rainin'," Bluebell piped up. Both the fact that she'd actually spoken something relatively neutral and that she'd horribly tempted fate caused everypony, including even Duck, to instantly shoot Bluebell a hard glare. The low rumble of the troop transport truck gurgled and rumbled directly into Duck's gut and greatly upset her stomach, a sentiment she was sure the others were sharing as they keeled over and clutched theirs in kind, though Candle's was more fast-paced, her groping in search of her proclaimed notebook instead of (her apparent lack of) guttural displeasure. Behind the double row of seats lining the bed of the truck—which was, thankfully, currently shielding them from the soft rain pitter-pattering atop its cover—rolled the long six-wheeled trailer bearing the Cruiser Mark IV, its cannon locked to the rear both out of the nervousness of having to stare at it the whole way back, and that the turret ring itself was horribly damaged to the point of being completely free-floating. They'd had to strap the barrel to the undersides of the rear-mounted exhaust pipes, something that could very well end up with two pieces of broken equipment, but... well, they were taking it back to the garage for a reason. The search and rescue had been fulfilled at a remarkably good pace, and now came the reparations. A turret ring and, just to be safe, new exhaust pipes so far. She'd have to take a look inside to see if there was any internal damage done to it as well. Despite their prior... zaniness for lack of a more fitting term back in the field, the others seated next to and in front of her were relatively quiet the whole way back, though mostly owing to the truck's engine drowning out any conversation they could have even attempted to begin. Flurry had been drifting in and out of sweet, blissful sleep the entire way, her head lifting up from and falling back onto Duck's right shoulder on an oddly well-timed interval that Duck most certainly hadn't kept track of, because that would be stupid and weird. Arco, on Duck's left, had been trying to keep himself entertained by making little beats with his hooves against whatever was nearest, from his own tummy to the wooden floorboards hastily installed on the bed lining. Pine seemed to have been a light switch flicked to Off the instant they'd all settled into their seats, her entire body and gaping-mouthed figure currently draped over Vanilla next to her like a coffee-chugging, indie-loving, checker-patterned curtain. Vanilla in the meanwhile was hard at work drawing what looked to be runes across the length of one of Pine's forelegs, her tongue sticking out and switching positions here and there. Candle was scribbling away at the notebook she'd just now recovered, propping her glasses up cutely every few seconds or so as she went. Sweet Tea sat like a proper mare across from her, legs tightly clamped together and her ears laid back as she seemed more intent on just listening than looking around. Not that there was much to look at anyway, unless a canvas cover, metallic beams, rickety wood, and the truck's rear window was of anypony's piqued interests. ... It kind of was to her. Was that window bulletproof of any kind...? THUMP THUMP. Everypony looked toward the edge of the truck bed, where Bluebell, sitting half inside and half outside, was now pointing to the wide open latter. A light post, then two, then four, then ten, a parking lot lightly populated by wandering ponies and cars, a fence line, and a quarter of a massive building told them all that they'd finally reached school grounds. This assumption was staunchly confirmed as the truck turned a bit to its left, took a hard right, and finally stopped with the force of a train, the ponies sitting in the back just on the brink of being flung forward against the wall like Captain Baloo the Bush Pilot had in the Tropical Capes. The engine no longer at full force and now idling, Duck was able to hear Mrs. Red's muffled voice as she called, "Hello, everypony! What have we got here?" Duck scurried out of the truck behind the others—her mind telling her she probably should have gone dead last so as to not hinder anypony—and dropped onto the grass, tossing her mane out of her eyes after she landed. She looked over to her right to find Mrs. Red standing next to her in front of a beautiful sky of yellows, oranges, reds, purples, and blues crested with thin, hole-punched, wispy clouds that stretched across it in a kind of maple leaf pattern. Mrs. Red craned her neck over to grab Duck's side-glancing attention, and smiled brightly even as the dusk heavens burned above her head. "You found the Cruiser, huh?" She asked, hooves going to her hips as she fell onto her haunches and faced the vehicle in question. Duck lifted her chin. "Yes, ma'am," she reported, her hoof raising in a salute that she quickly canceled. "Discovered it in a collapsed cave due east of town." Mrs. Red beamed as if it was the only thing she could do. Well, besides talk, which she did next, "Very good work, Duck! Might make a good scout, don't you think?" Duck shrugged. "Its 2-Pounder won't get through much, so it's either that or a good diversionary vehicle." Mrs. Red hummed. "Bait." "Bait." "I hadn't thought of that..." Mrs. Red nodded vigorously, as if understanding a genius idea or something. She faced Duck. "Clever idea." She lifted a hoof and shook it toward the garages, which Duck glanced at to find one of its doors wide open and allowing the light fixtures inside a method of escape along the concrete threshold. "You might as well head inside and wait for the others. Do any homework that needs doing, read, take a nap. It's been a long night for you all." Duck grinned, ears flopping against her skull. "Thank you, ma'am," and away she went. As she walked toward the garages, feeling a yawn coming and allowing it to roll off her lulled tongue, she remembered her messenger bag and decided that she'd pick it up from where she'd left it just inside the door before doing anything else. Her AP Calculus homework was more a top priority to her than some grub—which, if her mind wasn't wandering too far, was a granola bar or two in the side pocket—and so she'd find a quiet table well away from everypony else and get as much done as possible. And judging by the amount of different voices, hoofsteps along the floor, and assorted clatterings and smashings coming from inside, a "quiet table" may have been a little more on the imaginative side of hers. She'd probably have to go to the opposite end of the building and sit on the floor. Her hoof went up to help her lean in and scour said floor for her bag, and she was met with a dozen or so ponies frolicking about like children... which they were... and she was... she was going to move on now. There was Pine, Tea, Candle, and Vanilla standing around next to one of the rectangular tables and not actually using them in the slightest, sipping from cups and shaking them as they spoke. Arco and Flurry were returning from a trip to a fold-out table bearing what Duck recognized as a plastic party platter of meats, cheeses, vegetables, and fruits, most certainly a treat from Mrs. Red for working so hard during the day that she'd probably just snatched from the deli at the local grocery store while they were away. Flurry caught sight of Duck and waved at her, Arco doing the same before they both placed their paper plates on a table and sat down to feast... in the smallest kind of definition. Who were these others, then? She'd seen them earlier in the day when she, Arco, and Flurry had hopped over the fence, but they'd kept to themselves and hadn't said much at all. One of them was an orange-yellow Unicorn, her dark red mane pulled back in a loose ponytail so she could better see with her glasses the hoofheld's bright screen in front of her face. She sounded like she were in the midst of a terrible cold, sniffing constantly and rubbing her nose with enough speed to make a Wonderbolt jealous in her little XP-72 Ultrabolt way high up in the sky where it more than just "excelled". Another was a Pegasus laying on her back next to the first mare, a massive wall of books almost causing Duck to have missed her as she read quietly to herself, completely undeterred by the loud explosions, yelling, and plane sounds emanating from the video game about a few inches from her ear. Next to the Pegasus was a fellow Earth Pony, lit up with white by the laptop screen way too close to her face while she sucked away at a carton of chocolate milk with one hoof and scrolled with an adjacent wireless mouse with the other. Another Unicorn finished the row of unfamiliar names, this one still wearing her massive headphones that deafeningly blared... interesting music, if she could call it that, to the entire garage. It seemed that Duck was the only pony to both notice and actually care about how loud it was, but, not wanting to confront a total stranger—or really, confront somepony just in general—she peeled her ears back, grabbed her bag, slung it over her body, and approached them. They had clearly been here long before she and the others had arrived, so she had to ask. "Did you all happen to... erm, find anything?" Their movement was like a Broadway play, the first mare lowering her hoofheld and looking at Duck quizzically, the second lowering her book and staring at Duck with a brow raised between her skyward nose, the third lowering her laptop's screen and observing Duck for a response, and the fourth lowering her volume with a little button before taking her accessory off, putting it around her neck, and adjusting her posture before watching Duck like she were actually watching a duck. The fourth, the third, and the second looked at the first in a snap. The first smiled. "Yeah." Pause. Was... was that it...? She continued after looking at her screen for a second, "Looked a bit small an'... kinda boxy..." the others nodded, "...but it didn't look too bad." She raised a hoof up and pointed it, where was that... eastward. "Found it in a lake just outside of town." The hoof went down with a plop. "We came in on another truck as the first one dug it out. Still on its way here." Flurry suddenly just... appeared next to Duck, almost causing her to jump a hundred feet into the air but definitely making her heart skip a beat as she flicked her head over to the other side of the garage and asked, "What're they doing?" Duck looked over at "they". "They" were the three ponies who'd scoffed and mumbled when she'd shown up earlier, with the red necktie-wearing Pegasus reclining in her chair on the left, the blue bowtie-wearing Unicorn smiling at her in the middle with her forelegs wringing together on the table, and the yellow infinity scarf-wearing Earth Pony crossing her arms and glaring at the ground, lip pouted, on the right. "I, uh... wouldn't talk to them," the first mare said almost sheepishly, "They seem kind of... mean." Flurry instantly turned around to go talk to them, her hooves like chops of thunder. Duck and Arco looked at each other with telling expressions and hurried after her. Duck wanted to stop her and remind her about the lovely plate of food back at the table. She wasn't sure about Arco though. They reached their destination in the span of about four quick seconds, the three at the table sitting up upon realizing they were the subject of somepony else's attention. "What the hell are you three doing here? Did you find anything?" Flurry asked, tapping a hoof on the ground impatiently. The one on the left slicked back her oddly shaped blonde mane and grinned, a snicker in her throat. "If you actually expected me to lift a hoof to go and find some age-old clunky machine, you've got another thing coming." The Unicorn added, "I actually have hydrogenated arthritis," which Flurry shook her head at with her mouth on the brink of uttering something flabbergasted. "If I move too much, my spine might explode like a turtle shell." Did... did they do that often? The mare leaned forward, shrugging shut-eyed. "I... hope you understand." The Earth Pony rolled her eyes. "Asking me to move," she spat, as if saying it would somehow cancel out the actual request, "please. You think Celestia moves that sun herself?" "Wh-what?" Duck couldn't contain herself from sputtering. "No ma'am," the Pegasus chimed in again, checking her hooves for something disinterestedly, "we just called in a few friends and had them go look for it." "The youth of today need to learn how to help those above them, I think," the Unicorn claimed. Flurry made a very tight O-shape with her lips, recoiling and staring at every part of the ceiling in a silence. "Did you get Freshmen?" Arco asked incredulously. "Yup!" "Sent 'em to the Everfree Forest like Mrs. Red said." Duck, like she was sure happened to everything in those woods, suddenly became rooted to the spot, her legs quivering and her mouth cold as ice with each breath she took. Flurry's voice took on a loud tone, "The Everfree?!" By now, the other mares in the room were looking at them and wandering over, curious about what was happening that necessitated such a high volume. Arco was already walking away and grabbing his bag as he growled, "Celestia's sake..." Flurry about-faced with the expertise of a Royal Guard and magicked her own saddlebags onto her back, following Arco as he headed toward the front door. Duck's response was internally debated and changed thousands of times over the course of three seconds, but the underdog decision reached her brain and caused her to begin walking after them. Oh Gods what was she doing she was going to the Everfree?! At night no less?! That's so dangerous! Stop stop stop! She went over and threw her satchel around her head, hearing Arco tell someone, "Phone me," as he reached the door. Was now really the time to be getting mares' numbers?! Was anypony thinking straight right now?! She rounded the corner that the four "nerds" had made with their bodies and paused at the door for just a second before composing herself, puffing out her chest, and marching out into the now much more heavy rain beating down on the grass. Flurry was waving Mrs. Red over, Arco—in front of Flurry—adjusting his bag and zipping it closed. She didn't hear whatever Flurry said, but definitely heard Mrs. Red as she stamped on the ground, yelled, "Godsdammit!" and nodded at Flurry before pointing, presumably, toward the Everfree. Flurry nodded in kind and began galloping that way. Arco did the same. Duck took chase. "Be careful, you three!" Flurry. "Don't worry!" Arco. "Course!" Duck. "Yes, ma'am!" The grass was wet beneath her hooves, making soaking, dirt-colored stains that went up her sleeves and threatened to get on both her bags and mane too. Every fiber of her being was telling her to stop and go back inside, but the sight of both of her friends continuing onward undeterred only made her speed up and lower her head even more. Above them, it seemed as if the gray, gray clouds had gotten wind of the three's dare, and were now prepared to throw everything they could at them. A thought came to her that she never would have thought she could have. Well, let them come. Well, they certainly came, now resembling more a thick sheet of white, snowy fog than individual droplets of rain that absolutely soaked her straight down to her Earth Pony core, giving her school jacket immeasurable weight that wasn't helped at all by the messenger bag and mane now horribly close to dragging along the mud covered ground, catching on the many assorted branches, and twisting in each bush she had the misfortune of just barely grazing. Her, Arco's, and Flurry's hurried paces were still very much hurried, but, thanks to the jumblings of nature right at their legs, they'd decided to revert to a more tactical gait. "Gods, what I wouldn't give to actually be able to see right about now!" Despite the stark contrast between Arco's gravel and Flurry's flitting, Duck couldn't tell who had just spoken. "How the hell do we even know where we're going?!" Okay, that had definitely been Flurry. Duck shook her head to move her mane out of her eyes and, observing the path ahead, and the path behind, and frowning at the moonwater, knew the answer before Arco—she was sure it was Arco—gave it. "Gaps in the bushes! Those hoofprints, too!" Flurry took a second in front of Duck to cast her glance downward and look for said hoofprints. Satisfied—Duck guessed—she continued onward. "Didn't think this was how we'd be spending our first day in class!" "Me neither! You'd think we'd have been tackled to the ground and ripped apart by now!" Flurry shouted. Duck could have very easily stopped and piddled herself, but, then, that was probably what something would want so they could tackle her to the ground and, thereafter, rip her apart. She kept pace. "My mom actually told me about that. Let's just say the animals here don't screw with each other in the rain for a good reason!" Flurry gave Duck a look, then gave it to Arco's back. "Enlighten me, oh great one!" Arco laughed, vaulting over a downed tree log dotted with fungi that Duck, not wanting to touch them, almost spelled death for her in the form of a slip and tumble and break. Of her neck. Or something. Okay. Keep moving, Duck. You're fine. Eeeeeverything's fine. The thick, tall grass made way for what felt to Duck to be a clearing of some sorts, possibly for blood rituals and witch trials that ended up with pretty much the same mix of... mmm results. The lack of grass complemented the lack of aerial cover, giving the whole area a bit of a spotlight feeling both because of the sudden reappearance of the moon's light and just... in general. The thick artillery barrage of rainfall was blinding in every way, shape, and form, and proved a fair opponent for Arco, who suddenly slammed face-first into something particularly large and daunting. His legs lifted up from the impact, and he hit the earth and instantly reached up to rub at the newly-forming bump on his nose. "Son of a..." He grumbled, scrunching his muzzle. "That's a big poplar," Flurry observed, staring upward to try and find its top. It sure had the same color as a poplar tree... Duck walked forward, Flurry moving out of the way and Arco scooting away on his butt. ...but trees didn't have numbers on them in bright white, did they? It was at that moment, her hoof reaching up to brush away the slops and slops of mud and moss covering... whatever it was, that Duck heard a voice far off in the distance. Wait, no, right next to her. And not one, but two. Three. Four. How many ponies were...? She looked back at Arco and Flurry, who gave her the same expression she hoped she was giving them. She turned around and placed all fours back onto earth, eyes dancing about to look for something of interest. The figure became more and more apparent to her as she did so, a handle popping up there, a vent here... a roundel on the side below it. She recognized it instantly, and quickly began to sort through her recollections of frames, chassis, exteriors, and... she hummed, reached a hoof up, and found a small handle just barely big enough for her to coil around. It was heavier than she thought—surely some kind of design flaw—and she pulled it and its hatch apart slowly enough for each and every pair of eyes inside to adjust to the sudden influx of light. Or what little amount there was, anyway. Oh wait those are eyes. Duck jumped back, issuing a squeak that was multiplied almost overlappingly by five. She fell to earth and threw both forelegs across her face, shutting her eyes and biting her lower lip to the point of drawing blood. Cover yourself, protect your neck, keep still; it will move on, and you will be okay. If it gets on top of you, roll back onto your stomach. Never face it face-to-face. They know fear and they will capitalize on it. Stay down stay down stay down. "Hello?" Sniffle. "Are you from the... sch-school?" Duck could tell that Flurry was grinning. "As a matter of fact, yes I am! And we've been on the search for some badass Freshmen who wanted to help the Tankery class!" Arco let out a belly laugh. He and Flurry's hooves made sickly noises as they got close to Duck's position. "Did we find them?" Closer now. Somepony was poking her in the side. "Hey, Duck. Are you okay? It's just the Freshmen." She darted up like a rocket. She hoped she hadn't startled him. She nodded. "Of course!" Not. She shivered for a second and pulled at her jacket's pockets, joining Flurry and Arco in crowding around and looking into the Prench machine. A quintet of young mares were huddled in the Driver's seat, the Gunner's seat, and on the floor, hugging each other so tightly the hundreds of points of contact were turning bleach white. The sight broke her heart. They looked more scared than she was, a few of them even bearing red noses and glazed eyes. "Well, what are all of your names?" Flurry asked, leaning in further and placing her hooves on the lip of the open hatch. This seemed to cheer them up a tad, as they rubbed at their faces and grinned smally. They raised a hoof as they went. "Cream Cheese!" "Wind Whistler!" "Bayleaf!" "Orange Peel!" "Carrot Stick!" Flurry hummed. "Well. Cream, Wind, Bayleaf, Orange, Carrot... I think it's time to get you all home." She lit her horn and enveloped one of the mares in her magic, quipping, "Out you come," as Arco regarded her, pulling off his pack. "I'll phone Mrs. Red." Flurry nodded at him, then took two steps back as the first Freshmen plopped onto the ground safe and sound. True to his word, Arco yanked the small fold-out stool out, stuck its legs into the wet ground, and dropped the entire phone body onto the top of it. Duck, looking around for any kind of energy source he could have been using for it, listened as Arco dialed a few numbers, picked up the hoofset, and spoke into it after it squawked an audible crackle, "Hello, Mrs. Red? Yeah, we found them." He turned toward the machine and whinnied. "Looks like they found a tank, ma'am. So, yeah, we need a pickup. And, if you can, bring some blankets, too. It's pretty garbage out here. Thank you." Click. "Well," Flurry said, bringing the last Freshman out and striking a pose like some kind of camp counselor addressing a first-day crowd, "looks like we'll all be sitting here for awhile until the trucks arrive. We're not too far into the Everfree, so once I light our way they should be able to get to us in no time!" A few more sniffles, but everypony seemed relatively okay. In fact, it seemed that the clouds, now thwarted due to the successful mission on both fronts, were beginning to slink away to greener pastures. Duck's gaze returned to the tank, and Arco walked over to her and stared at it as well. "So! What kind of tank is it?" Duck narrowed her eyes. Armored roadwheel cover, very... mallard-like appearance, 47mm gun... "A Prench SOMUA S35 Medium Tank." Arco cocked his head. "Huh. Samoa? Like the island?" Duck shook hers. "No. Societe d'Outillage Mecanique et d'Usinage d'Artillerie." She let out a sigh, having gotten increasingly nervous about screwing up and absolutely slaughtering the proper pronunciation with each and every syllable her lips formed, but positively beamed after totally nailing it. Now Arco had to think she was smart! She looked at him again and giggled at his slack-jawed expression. "Ess Oh Em You Ay. SOMUA." Arco snorted. "Wow. Are you Prench?" She had to stop herself from blurting out, "Gods, I hope not," the very idea of it being the point of ridicule countless times in her foalhood thanks to her mother's very adamant patriotism and criticism of everything else. In all honesty, Duck held an incredible amount of respect for Prance, knowing full well how hard they would have fought had Griffonia invaded their country, and how they would have saved the entire Crumpish army at the town of Dunkerque had Griffonia's Blitzkrieg pushed through. She settled for something infinitely more kind. "Not a drop." Of blood, she'd meant. Not a drop of blood. Despite the stupid detachment of the important part of her response, Arco had apparently understood completely, and the rest of the time spent waiting for the troop transport truck was filled with Freshmen giggles, Arco's terrible puns he constantly thanked his father for giving him, Flurry's magic beam almost blinding Duck at its birth, and the terrifying sound of an approaching engine that almost made Duck jump up and run away from. The entire trip back after the SOMUA was hoisted onto the overworked trailer was filled with much of the same thing, Arco apparently thinking it funny that Duck had almost needed a walking stick and guide dog the first time Flurry used her "light beam", and that Duck needed a "quick, little splish-splash of water on her face like eh," and then he had made a motion that looked like he was trying to drown himself in a puddle. Duck gave him a heavy frown, but the Freshmen seemed to enjoy it, so she guessed that it was good enough for all of them in the end. The truck halted with a loud, piercing screech, and it was all the passengers could do to reach up and cup their ears with their two hooves until it passed not two seconds later. Content, but still hearing a very distant ringing, Duck got up to let everypony know that it was time to leave and watched as Flurry hopped off and helped each and every one of the Freshmen land safely on the ground. Arco jumped after they'd finished, and Duck did the same, almost catching on the trailer hitch but doing a neat flip that she was sure nopony had seen. Brushing herself off, she walked around the truck to find Mrs. Red newly assaulted by a pack of young mares led by Flurry, who was now asking her whether or not they could figure out how to get them all home, and if she could just walk them all back or not. Arco joined her as they walked past them, and even joined her in her surprised expression as she found all six of the garage's doors pulled wide open, their previously empty spaces now fully occupied by large, medium, and small... "Tanks," Arco said simply. Duck peered through the still present layer of—thankfully—thin fog to try and identify the new figures, but shook her head and decided to ask Flurry, "Are you all okay?" Flurry nodded as Mrs. Red parted ways and began walking over to her and Arco. "I'm going to go and take these five on home! You guys better not have fun without me!" Arco laughed heartily, waving. "No promises, Flurry!" Duck bent at the elbow as well. "Goodbye, Flurry!" Flurry sniggered one last time before heading off, making sure that all five Freshmen were in tow. "All right, see ya!" One conversation passed, and another started. Mrs. Red walked past her and Arco. "It seems that everypony found them all!" "Whe..." Duck coughed, "...where were they?" Mrs. Red tapped at her chin as they continued trotting along, but finally replied, "One was found in a lake just outside of town, and the other was... at the top of a hill overlooking Ponyville, like it was waiting to strike." This, for once, caused a shiver in Arco's spine and not Duck's. Honestly, it had probably been on the minds of the crew to go out cannon blazing. As they neared the garages—and the countless voices from inside increased to near shouting volume—Mrs. Red continued, "The only real matter now is who gets what." Their hooves shifted from making squelching noises to clipping and clopping on concrete. She swiveled about, "I would more than gladly give you first pick, but I think I might know what your preference is already. I'll let you decide once you see them all." Arco gave Duck a look that she didn't quite understand, but she brandished a smile that seemed to put him at ease. The three of them entered the building and were suddenly caught in the middle of an observational swarm that had been in the middle of looking at the leftmost tank. "Hey, no shoving!" "Outta the way!" "Oh, it's Mrs. Red!" "Oh, whoops!" "Sorry, ma'am!" "Yeah, sorry Mrs. Red!" It was a short while as Mrs. Red dusted her uniform off of juvenile, teenage gunk, and then she struck a pose and returned to her jovial composure. "It's a pleasure to see you all! Glad you all made it back okay!" Duck scratched her neck. Arco sucked his lips into his mouth, looking around idly. Candle, Vanilla, Tea, and Pine were huddled together, their clothes soaking but their firm smiles telling a completely different story. The four "nerds" were still admiring the Cruiser's roadwheels for some reason or another—honestly, Christie suspension was a genius idea, but not every tank that had it became a high-tier bringer of destruction—pointing at things and "oohing" and "aahing" here and there. The five jocks—there was no other word for them—stood far in the back, talking quietly and snickering about the assuredly dumbest things ever known to ponykind. The lazy, color-coded bullies looked like they had better places to be, tapping their hooves on the floor and crossing their arms with massive frowns on their lips. Bluebell sat in the corner, seemingly asleep, maybe dead. Mrs. Red swept a hoof toward the tanks lining the garage, and Duck looked over to them to decipher their designations as Mrs. Red began, "Now! I guess the more obvious next step is to figure out what exactly we're seeing!" That one is Equestrian for sure. That's Griffonian. Prench. "Duck Bill?" Duck snapped to attention. "Would you like to tell us what we've all recovered today?" Her hooves shook at their ends, but she looked away from the crowd staring at her in one way or another and somehow, some way, found the courage. "Next to us is a Cruiser Tank, a Crumpish Cruiser Mark IV A13 Mark II, fitted with a Vickers 2-Pounder cannon that might just be able to put a dent in a barn wall." Broken turret ring and, from what they'd attempted while still out on the field, a very shot engine. Moving on... "To its left is a Heavy Tank, a Griffonian Panzerkampfwagen VI, better known as a Tiger." A shiver tickled her legs, but she continued onward unharmed. "This one is a Type H, and its 88mm cannon might be one of the best in the entire world." From what she could see being in front of them all, it looked like the rear of the Tiger was completely busted open, which spelled a certain doom for the V12 engine she was fairly certain was nothing more than a mess of parts. Adding onto that, the thing sure must have gotten shot at a lot. Steady... keep your breathing calm... "Next, the Crumpish A34 Comet Type A." Bent-back barrel, new canvas cover, new track, refurbished armor... You're doing fine. Just keep going. "Further down, a Light Tank. An Equestrian M5A1 Stuart to be exact. 37mm gun." The damage looked internal, something she was afraid of, with many cracks around the front of the cannon that stretched further inside. Last one. You're doing fine. "And finally, a Medium Tank. Prench SOMUA S35. Its armor is formidable, but it's more expensive than you think a tank might be. A 47mm cannon isn't too bad, either." A track completely missing and most of its doors either blown off or snapped in half somehow. Okay. That was going to be a lot. She sucked in a deep breath and dispelled it, then looked back at the rest of the class and desperately sucked in another one. Oh Gods had she said something funny? When? Which line? What did she say?! Mrs. Red clapped her hooves and laughed. "Well! I guess the next course of action will be deciding who gets what!" There was a loud shouting of "dibs!" before the jocks all bum-rushed the Tiger H, touching it with their hooves like they were in the middle of a Hoofball game. "Okay then," Mrs. Red said, "does anypony have any objections to that?" A few mares scratched their head. Sweet Tea whistled a tune, looking away. Some yawned, tired. Arco moved his shoulders around in a half-hearted dance. Duck kicked the concrete. "All right, then! How about everypony else?" A hoof went up, belonging to one of the nerds. "Yes?" Mrs. Red asked, looking over at the source. The hoof went down. "How about we all take the tanks that we found?" Mrs. Red gasped and cracked a wild grin. "That's an excellent idea! And, it works for the Tiger's crew as well!" She straightened her posture and puffed out her chest, then raised her voice half a decibel or so because she apparently couldn't be heard from two feet away. Duck's heart slowed down finally, only to start up again. "Team A, composed of Duck Bill, Arco Piano, Flurry Heart, and Bluebell!" Bluebell, still sitting at the table, shot her head up and mumbled something, looking about in a dazed panic. "You will have the A34 Comet!" Arco nodded silently. Duck... actually didn't mind that, either. Crumpish design was something she was actually familiar with. "Pine Needle, Sweet Tea, Candle Light, and Vanilla Pudding, you are Team B, and will take the Cruiser Mark IV!" They hoof pumped the air. "Team C, Lily Pad, Hail Mary, Field Goal, Peanut Brittle, and Whipgrass, will take the Tiger H!" The jocks, still standing guard at their Tiger, made very gorilla-sounding noises. "Team D! Busy Body, Blank Check, and Forest Fire, you have the SOMUA!" Mumbles and grumbles. "Team E—that's Bit Rate, Autumn Leaves, Primrose, and Plastic Beach—you will have the Stuart!" The nerds high-hoofed each other. "Now that that's figured out, while you may want to dive right in and go to work on your tanks, I feel like we can all agree that it has been an incredibly long day, and that we should head out and go home!" It sounded like everypony was legitimately confused whether to give Mrs. Red words of agreement or stutters of misgivings. "We'll begin work on them tomorrow! Head home, everypony! You've done very well today! Dismissed!" Mrs. Red got into a pose and gave them a crisp salute that only Duck, who hadn't already moved to depart, returned. They nodded at one another—Duck's a tad shakier—and began to walk outside to join the rest of the class as they all headed their separate ways, clearly inebriated if their stumbling and muttering was any indication. One of the nerds turned her head to look at the tanks as she continued walking, barely getting out, "All those tanks look the same," before a yawn overtook her. "That's racist," went one of the jocks, which Duck felt was a genuine response and not at all a joke. Duck remembered another mare in their class, and was quick to find Bluebell peeling away from everypony else and heading across the field toward town by herself. She blinked, but was able to acknowledge Arco as he patted her back and told her, "We did good today, Duck!" She could feel the bags nestled under her eyelids, but she found a smile and let it show. She very strongly didn't wish to admit it, but, "You know what, Arco?" Arco copied her. "No, what?" Duck hummed, lifting her chin and adjusting her bag. "I think so, too."