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// This Will Be The Hardest First Fight! Please Pray For Us Good Luck, Everyone! 
// Story: Mares und Panzer 
// by re- Yamsmos 
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"They do know there's no 'W' in 'Horsepowers', right?"

"There's also supposed to be an 'S' in there, somewhere."

"I don't think they're trying to spell 'Horse', guys."

"..."

They all tilted their heads as one singular, collective clock hand.

Duck's mane flopped onto the ground in a horrific pile akin to the results of the spaghetti recipe she could never fully follow. The Gods had long ago forsaken her when it came time to boiling water.

There was a pregnant pause. Its husband made a scalding remark about her dress. She continued being so for what seemed like an entire minute.

Finally, they all droned, eyes wide and heads nodding despite their new knowledge, "Ohhhh..."

Their heads went back to normal, then, as if kickstarting the rest of their bodies, began to look about quizzically. On her left, she could see Lily and the rest of Hurricane Team trotting about to poke and prod at the odd table lying here and there on its side on the concrete. To her right, Pansy Team stepped forward, fittingly crushing stray leaves under their hooves and, just as fittingly, immediately springing backward with a collective yelp that caused herself to about jump fifty feet into the air, and a gasp that was followed by their low crouches to the ground and profuse apologies and concern for whatever they'd just accidentally, ruthlessly stepped on.

Arco appeared next to her. He sat on his haunches, shut his eyes tightly, cracked an overly cocky grin, stabbed his forelegs against his hips, and breathed in a Panicking-Duck-Bill amount of oxygen in and out of his lungs. Finally, he proudly exclaimed to nopony, "Gods, it's a great day out today."

The final hisses of their train dissipated with its final puffs of coal-birthed smoke.

Peanut Brittle accidentally pushed a table much further than she'd wanted. It crashed onto the floor with a fitting crash.

Everypony who wasn't Duck—because Duck had ducked behind a foreleg—turned to face Peanut.

Bit Rate coughed.

The wind rolled through, kicking up leaves in lazy spirals that barely lifted them off the ground. They moved about five inches backward.

The train station was absolutely, positively, dead quiet. And practically dead, as well.

Feeling herself safe once more, Duck placed all fours back onto Earth, lifted one up to start moving forward, then paused and faltered. She looked down, having almost stepped right onto a brightly-colored balloon bearing the phrase Welcome! on the front. As another gust of wind flew about, the balloon rolled over completely, revealing another message on its back. Duck, curious, stopped again in the middle of taking a step and looked at it again.

Now go away.

Duck frowned.

She kicked the balloon limply.

"Shut up, Arco," came Flurry, trotting up alongside and then past him to try and comfort Pansy Team, who looked to be in the middle of an existential crisis about their possibly killing an insect. The fact that they probably did so at three-hundred-times a serial rate practically every weekday while driving their Cruiser around—especially at their reckless speed and with their uncaring maneuevers—and didn't bat an eyelash was more than just a tad astonishing to her.

Her attention directed anywhere but the ground below her hooves, Duck began to cast sideways glances upwards, taking note of the tri-colored streamers hanging from the little roofs over their heads, the wacky confetti littering the ground and disgracing every hoofstep, and the helium-full balloons trying desperately to gain their well-deserved freedom and fly high up into the cloudy skies above to disappear into the heavens. Alas, poor rubber friend. In the distance, she could hear the telltale sounds of a city breathing with life—namely ponies yelling at each other with expletives, cars veering on the road to avoid grandmothers in the crosswalk, and the exclamations of newly-soiled ponies realizing it wasn't mayonnaise that was now horribly splattered on their finely-pressed jacket's shoulder pad. 

Food stands, some of them still holding their assorted condiments, were set up in lines and rows all across the station, as if ghosts were manning them and were now impatiently waiting for the schoolponies to peruse their ghost hot dogs and ghost hayburgers, and their... ghost... sodas...? 

Continuing on the ghost path, it... it was like a ghost town that had not five seconds ago been bustling with rampant, manic activity. They'd just missed it.

In fact, if the decorations and carts weren't around, the whole area would look like a normal worker's commute, with all the angry, self-life-despising ponies dressed in suits lining up at the ticket booth like usual to boot. A few of them, finally realizing they weren't alone, regarded them with soft glares and quiet murmurs that, at once, crackled and broke under pressure as, as if every single power that even thought about her Earthly presence had suddenly decided to gang up on her and kick her in her shins, a particularly Antarctic breeze blew through the train station once more—this time with much more fury and much less Fahrenheit—picking up fall leaves and lifting them in rustling spirals up, up, up into the air and toward the sun trying its hardest to break through the clouds.

She grit her teeth tightly, reached up, and pressed her white collar closer to her throat hurriedly.

Who knew that the edge of Baltimare could be so cold?

A sudden movement caught her hopelessly wayward attention, and she turned to the source to find a dirty-yellow crane next to the train behind her clutching the SOMUA with a trio of hard steel chains, lifting it from the newly-empty train car and lowering it onto the grass alongside the rest of the already unloaded Ponyville tanks. Its overly-glossy gold, red, and blue paint job shimmered blindingly in what little sunbeams could poke through the heavens, prompting Duck to instantly turn her head and shield her eyes with a shivering hoof. As she finally lowered the appendage, she was struck oddly—vaguely similarly to having an anti-tank round zip inches from her head—by the fact that she wasn't, by now, hearing the telltale gripes and complaints of Platinum Team, who, being who they were, would more than just jump at the chance to bicker with the crane pony and shout expletives at him to work harder, faster, and overall better. Frowning, and completely unable to see where the Team had gone, Duck fully turned around, and had to move out of the way as both the newly uncovered sound of hoofsteps and Busy's literal Body seemingly unnoticeably bumped into and past her. Stumbling about in her step, she opened her mouth to say something she'd probably regret, but shut it just as quick as she realized that everypony else was watching the three step off the train with her. Even Pansy Team, still probably losing it right now, turned their blubbering mouths around to at least puff their cheeks out at them.

Forest Fire stopped what she was doing, which was walking. She fluffed up her scarf and looked up.

Blank Check and Busy Body kept on going, then stopped as one. Blank looked to the left. Busy right.

Casting her glance downward, and letting her red tie hang loosely over the confetti-ridden floor, Busy shook her head.

"This is a trend, these days, and it's beginning to frighten me."

Bluebell opened her mouth.

Flurry's horn burned brightly, shutting it just as quickly.

Somepony immediately made the most disinterested hum Duck had ever heard in her life. Judging by Candle Light's getting up and moving around right afterward, it was probably her just to save her glasses from cracking again out of sheer misunderstanding.

Busy perked up. Her neck popped in thousands of places, but she didn't seem to mind.

The wind swayed and lifted her tie over her shoulder. She flexed her chin in response. "This." She nodded, first to herself then, looking about and expecting everypony else to join, herself again. She brought up a hoof and pointed it right at the ground below her. "This, right here, is why we need global warming."

"Uh–"

"Global warming?" Blank stepped forward, rolling her eyes and dropping her smile in an instant. For a second, it looked like she had wrinkles. "Please. We need global cooling, for all this heat you've built up these past years."

Busy craned her neck back.

"Little Miss 'Text Messages' is lecturing me on a scandal? I pray to the Gods you suffer plurality."

Blank seemed to enjoy the reply. "Between you and me, it'd be a landslide."

Busy shoved her hoof in her own breast. "Yeah, in my favor."

Blank growled, then turned back to her left and poked at a few branches on the ground. Busy, meanwhile, let out a heavy sigh Duck could only attribute to being really, really tired of something. Busy lifted her chin again and, regarding Blank with a cluck of her tongue that turned the Unicorn right around, albeit all frowny and mopey.

"I'll tell you what, Check. If this is what we have to look forward to," she shrugged, "I might just skip our debates."

"There's no point in appearances if nobody's looking," Blank admitted dismissively.

Busy sat on her haunches and studied the faces of her classmates, then she brought up her forelegs, curled one hoof into a ball, and slammed it down onto the other with her cheeks puffed out. "If the people want to change this country, they have to show up when it calls for them, not sit back and watch TV hoping somepony else did what they, very easily, rightfully, could have done in the first place."

"Voter turnout is one of the largest masses of possibles, and show-ups. If every single pony registered went into a booth, we might be able to finally progress in this horribly Imperial country."

Mrs. Red, having been watching quietly with her attendance sheet out pressed against her chest, craned her neck waaaay back and, crinkling up her eyebrows, made an 'O' shape with her mouth.

"One day, we'll finally see change," Forest Fire suddenly spoke up from behind Busy and Blank.

The two Primary Candidates turned to face Forest, then turned back.

"And one day, we'll give you that change, my friend," Blank replied... surprisingly wholesomely.

"We'll make Equestria great ag–"

"Wait, you guys actually think you'll rival Celestia in some kind of election?" Bit Rate piped up, pushing her glasses up onto her nose again. It seemed that, somewhere, way way deep down, she had enough of an attention span to pull herself away from her game, question the oddities meeting her for at least two seconds, then go right back to her favorite pastime without even hearing the answer.

Busy flailed a hoof, "Pfft."

"You're literally nobodies," Field Goal chimed in, eyes narrowed in scrutiny, attempted understanding of the big words Platinum Team had just been using, and probably the sun being in her eyes. Duck immediately realized: the clouds were pretty dense today. Scratch that last part.

Busy shut her eyes and placed a hoof against her collarbone. "Please. I could stand in the middle of Manetgomery Street and shoot somepony, and people would still give me their vote."

Thankfully, Pine Needle hadn't had her morning brew yet, or she would have spewed a large brown cloud of it all over the back of Sweet Tea's head.

Blank glared. "Nice execution."

"You'd know about executions, wouldn't you?" Busy fired back. Blank received, then threw her hooves over her mouth in a gargantuan gasp.

Busy chuckled to herself, then took a few steps forward to situate herself kind-of in the middle of the class' unintentional viewing circle. Looking down, she matted her tie neatly against her chest—either not caring or not realizing it instantly fell back down again—and stared at the floor, eyes shut. She smirked. "I... heh," she began, looking up and casting her sights around the area. "I'd like to share something with you all."

Graham, next to Duck and in the middle of simply walking out, screwed up her face as if ingesting an entire box of ripe lemons, spitting them back out, then downing a can of sardine juice and pickle residue. 

"Yeah?" She sounded very hesitant to play along.

Busy was quiet for awhile. Then, she puffed out her chest like the balloons attempting to break through the roof over her head and, bringing up a hoof to her side, pumped it vigorously. Excitedly. Triumphantly.

"I have a dream!"

The class was silent.

Duck, fading in and out of tuning the whole thing out—mainly because there, admittedly, might always be something mildly (read: mildly) useful in these rants—suddenly raised her ears to the sky. Wait... she just said what?

What?

"What?"

Busy, having apparently expected an enormous round of deafening applause, bone-crushing hugs, words of colossal approval, and tears and happiness and agreement from everypony watching, eeped as, about to go further into her plagiarized speech, she was interrupted by the hoot and whistle of a pony from across the station. The class all whipped about, a few frantically searching for the source, until all settled on the train ticket booth. Inside, waving goodbye to the previously-quiet-to-the-point-of-unrealized-presence customer—who bit down on her train ticket, grabbed her suitcase, and took a seat as far away from the high school class as she ably could—was a middle-aged stallion wearing a newsboy cap and sipping from a cup of what Duck assumed to be water, then smelled to be something alcoholic. She cringed at the forbidden scent.

"Are you all part of the team? Thought your Lead sent out invitations to their little party a week ago."

Mrs. Red opened her mouth and raised a hoof.

"Agh, no matter," the stallion unknowingly waved her off with his own, "you guys missed it anyway. Pretty damn good welcoming party, if you ask me. Ruby brough t out some of her vintage hot dogs again, coffee shop just down the ways came by with donuts and Joe, and we even cracked open a pinata!" Having ended with an upward inflection, and a lifting of his head almost to the roof of his little kiosk, he settled back down and coughed into a hoof. "Dunno why anypony would want a pinata full of eyepatches and 'doubloons'," he added with a flexing of two forelegs, "but whatever helps them win. Only had it all for about half an hour. Would've liked some more dogs, too."

So... Baltimare held a Welcoming Party kind of intended for Ponyville... but only for half an hour, and only really celebrating themselves before straight up leaving never to be seen again...? Was this a Welcoming Party or one of Duck's Birthday Parties? 

The stallion pointed a hoof back behind him without looking its way. "You guys heading for them? They already left to set up for today's match. Went back down, uh..." He aptly thumped a foreleg on the counter in front of him, scratching his scruffy chin, "...think, back down... back down Lee Street toward Bellmount a ways."

Duck cleared her throat.

"Actually, sir, we're part of the Ponyville Horsepowers."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Duck backpedaled hard, raising a foreleg, dropping her ears against her head, and making a little scared Duck noise.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The stallion continued, reaching up to something above his head.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The stallion went on still, grabbing hold of some kind of handle.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The stallion still laughed, pulling down the shutter of his kiosk.

SLAM! went the kiosk.

From behind the metal cover, one could still hear him.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

If there was anything she could hide under and forever remain forgotten by the world, Duck couldn't quite find it at the moment. One day, though.

She rubbed at one of her forelegs absent-mindedly, deprived of her escape.

Flurry sucked her lips between her teeth.

Arco braved a smile, not letting it set in.

A single sweat drop poured down his forehead, cascaded over his nose, and hung there like an icicle.

Don't let it set in.

Before Duck could awfully explain, showcase, and describe the rest of her crew for no reason so as to keep up equality and not leave anypony out because in doing so she'd be slightly mean and that's not really that nice even if doing so was a bit of a drag and kind of boring and stupid and dumb and lazy and predictable and a bunch of other things, Mrs. Red stuttered in an obvious attempt to detrack their minds from racing off the nearby hill and plunging into a deep dark hole someplace.

"W-Well!" She bounced with the tried word, then, turning her head, faced her class' tanks lying in the grass next to the train car. "Looks like they're done unloading your tanks, everypony!" She swished back around as if in a dance, causing the skirt-like lower half of her military uniform to whip about in the air. "Get down there and start your check-ups! We'll be leaving for the playing field shortly!" Giving them all a rehearsed salute that only a few of them returned, she smiled. "Dissss-missed!"

At that, the Tankery class rose their hooves with assorted mumbles and murmurs and began to walk down the length of the locomotive that had brought them in toward the back end. Thereafter, they hopped down onto the track, crossed it, and, finally crunching grass and dirt under their hooves, started toward their respective vehicles. As the crews began to part temporary ways, Duck heard the hurried sounds of hooves catching up to her, and barely had time to mentally prepare her body for Graham's touching her shoulder and excited quip.

"Man, if only we'd gotten here sooner!"

And then they could have been laughed at in person! Graham was right: that was way better!

"Eh," lazily went Bluebell, proceeding to first trot alongside Duck—which scared her—and then past and in front of Duck—which worried her.

"Somepony's grumpy this morning," Flurry started.

"You're such a hypocritic, by the Gods," Arco noted, shaking his head. "I literally woke you up like three times on the train ride here and all three of those times you hissed at me like a friggin' cat."

"I was studying for a test last night, Arco," she spat, then, realizing she'd actually dirtied Arco's neck, made a small apology and wiped it with a handkerchief she produced from her jacket. As she cleaned him, Arco rolled his eyes.

"You do realize you didn't have to study for a test you weren't taking, right? We were barely at school today."

Flurry pursed her lips, pulling the cloth back toward herself as if Arco's life depended on its saving grace. "I forgot!"

"Are tests a euphemism for something?" Graham asked, giggling like a madmare at Flurry's immediate beet reddening.

Euphe-what? Duck... was a little embarrassed to admit she'd never heard that word before. Although judging by Flurry's deep frown and sneer, it wasn't something kind. Or good. Really, neither. She'd have to avoid asking Graham later.

"Get into the damn tank, Graham, and pray to Celestia, Luna, and my mother I don't suddenly swerve to the right."

Roaring with amusement, Graham rushed past Duck, who turned her head at the sudden pitter-patter in the grass and watched as the Pegasus hopped up onto the Comet's left side skirt, swayed there for awhile on her hindlegs—manically windmilling her fores around to keep her balance—and finally pulled her ex-Machine Gunner hatch open before snaking herself inside rear-first. Flurry, lightly fluttering her wings, let out a yawn, shook her head, and opted on just going around the entire tank to climb inside her Driver's hatch, starting the Comet up just as Bluebell opened her Loader's hatch in the turret's roof and moved to jump inside. Arco, needing a second of quiet to realize the turret order, mouthed a quick, "Whoops," flashed Duck a grin, and jumped up onto the turret with two precise jumps. Throwing open the Commander's cupola, he backed himself up over to the edge, looked down, and dropped inside with a thud that was dulled by an... accessory the five of them had went out and bought earlier in the week, among other things.

As the sounds of him sliding over to get into his Gunner's seat reached Duck—who began crawling up to the top of the Comet herself—Arco's voice came, too.

"Yeah, that pillow was a good idea, Bluebell."

"Hmph."

"Good call!" went Flurry from her muffled position.

Silence.

Either Bluebell had just given Flurry—or Arco, or both—a quiet glare, or she was stuck on her salty retort again.

Duck, falling down into her Commander's position, sat on her haunches and steadied herself by grabbing onto part of her cupola's inner handles. Shaking her head, she suddenly realized she'd just joined her crew's conversation.

"We just gave you a compliment, and nothing?" Arco asked, his face all wrinkly and screwed up.

Bluebell leaned back, causing her Loader's seat to squeal in her wake. She crossed her arms and looked away.

Arco sighed.

"I think Bluebell's from Baltimare," came Flurry from the front, turning at the hip to address them, "probably just doesn't wanna fight her old town..."

Bluebell lit up at once, then looked to her right on the shelf next to her and grabbed her Loader's gloves from next to the smoke grenade launcher. Putting them on, she simply claimed, "Nope. Just don't wanna lose thanks to a Pumpkinhead."

Even inside her well-armored tank, Duck's rainclouds still managed to hover over her head and begin a steady torrent.

Barely half a split-second passed before Flurry's eyebrows crossed dangerously. "Watch it, you heartless whale."

Bluebell gutturally growled, but, realizing there was another pony nearby, turned her head to the left and past the destruction she'd already wrought. 

"Aren't you mad, too?" She asked.

Arco, clearly not paying her any attention, continued adjusting his Gunner's sights. Only after a few quiet seconds—disturbed by the Comet's idling engine—did he finally go, "Hmm?"

Bluebell looked to her left—at Duck—and her right—at Flurry. "Y-You know... a guy fighting in Tankery? That thing that nopony's ever done before? You'll be a laughing stock on that screen." She turned back around, face tinted with heat, and began to fiddle with nothing in particular. "Probably won't get laid anytime soon either..."

Arco snickered, still looking into his optics. He shook his head. "I'm not too worried about that, Bluebell."

"All right! Start 'er up!"

Duck's ears involuntarily stood straight up, much-too-perfectly mirroring her much-too-well-rehearsed movements as she hoisted herself up through her open cupola and back out into the cold noonish air not-too-helped by their current location, if just to catch a fresh breath and get away from the argument below her. A hoof moved forward to the lever at her chest to idly rotate herself around in her position, but joined the other that had thumped on the turret's roof to clutch at the pits of her forelegs and try stopping her little shivers from greeting her so harshly as they did. 

All around her, the sounds of her team's crews toiling away at their respective vehicles began to rise up in volume once more, heckishly filling her ears with clanging metals, swinging hatches, and mechanical turret whirs, each being accompanied by little tidbits of dialogue concerning whatever was on all their minds, be it the weather, their tank, Sweet Tea's butt apparently, and the upcoming match ahead of them all. She instinctively sniffed the air, then recoiled once she realized what was now plaguing her nostrils. Crinkling her muzzle, she suppressed the sneeze that was aching to come out of her and stole a glance at Mrs. Red, who was in the middle of a conversation regarding Puddinghead Team's roof-mounted MG, if her pointing at the weapon and clear mouthing of ".30 caliber" meant anything. The crew stole quick glances at their M5 Stuart here and there, as if worried it would overhear their discussion and feel betrayed at the level of attention it and the rest of the class' tanks had received earlier in the week.

It had only taken a day or two for the class to feel satisfied with their names, and were already—proudly—toting them around like their first gun by Wednesday's time. The Jocks seemed to be infatuated with Hurricane, noting its chaotic nature and just what their tank could do... even if they hadn't had the skill or know-how to unleash it all yet. The Hipsters began to grow attracted to Pansy, calling it an ironic name that they, fittingly, ironically loved, even saying that they'd be "underestimated by any team with a name like it!" The Nerds giggled every time somepony called for Puddinghead. They clearly enjoyed it. The Candidates were all grins and hums whenever they were addressed as Platinum for obvious reasons. And her own crew? Honestly, she was glad that the whole class liked the idea of their names, but the added fact that all four of her crew members loved being called Cookie Team only made her happier she'd spoken up for once. She also enjoyed first Graham's joke about making a rule that they always have a box of cookies inside, then Flurry's unexpected plastic bag full of cookie boxes that they'd been munching on from time to time between maneuvers.

It was also very quick for someone—actually herself—to suggest crew emblems to put on their tanks a la... well, tanks. While Vanilla Pudding immediately went to work sketching things out that went along with each crew's name, the crews themselves also immediately—like there were no words for how fast it was—began bickering about what dumb thing to put on their vehicle. Even Pansy Team, who shared more common interests than the other crews, were on the fence about three different album covers from three different ponies. After about five minutes or so of a heckish noise that Duck wanted only to drown out, Vanilla hopped up from the garage floor and displayed what she had made. A few murmurs, mutters, pouting, and sulking—most of which was actually genuine—everypony relented. The rest of the period that day was spent making the outlines of their new emblems and then filling them with color.

Vanilla was in charge of overseeing the operation, being the only real artist in the class, but Hurricane Team—as stubborn as they came, which was quite a bit—decided they could do it themselves, and ended up with a monstrosity that they constantly, bitterly defended. One of the first ones Vanilla finished was Puddinghead Team's, and, looking at it now, it was a really impressive first impression. Situated right in the middle of both sides of the hull, the familiar pink P bisecting the gray horseshoe of the Ponyville Horsepowers sat ignorantly nobly, clearly not realizing what team the logo was currently—regarding both the past and present—attached to. On top of that, on both the left and right side of its turret near the front, was a painting of Chancellor Puddinghead's famous hat, highlights and shines and shadows and all Gods it's good Duck didn't end up taking Art if this was her competition. The Stuart's crew had been stubborn on Vanilla's placement of the emblems. After all, it couldn't get in the way of their mees still grade-school-like smeared all across the hull. Right now, a bearded pony squating low to the ground in front of a green screen was telling her to, "Just do it!" She grimaced, hating how slightly inspirational that was.

Pansy Team, working like an assembly line, picked shells out of a large crate sitting in the wet grass by way of Sweet Tea, grabbed it with an adjustment of Candle Light's glasses, lifted it up into Vanilla Pudding's waiting—and now straining—hooves, and carefully dropped them into the Cruiser's turret's left hatch, where the presumed Pine Needle received them and placed them snugly into their metallic holders. On the front step of the Cruiser was the Horsepowers logo; on a vigorously insisted single side of the turret, a honeybee yellow, polished gold, and vibrant purple pansy sat elegantly. Whether it was painter's bias or not, their emblem definitely looked the sharpest.

Just as her own crew had finished early, Hurricane Team was entertaining themselves by forming a loose attempt at a circle and tossing a Hoofball to each other, their forelegs like trebuchets and their aim like Griffonia's Stoßtruppen. A chuck from Lily, to Hail, over to Peanut, above Whipgrass' head, and over to Field as they all laughed their deep, chortle-y laughs. Despite, their Tiger's hatches were open—letting in the morning mist—and their engine was dead silent even as everypony else's was now idly chugging away. Guided by the provided stencil, their Horsepowers logo looked fairly decent lying on the sides of their hull. However, the golden lightning bolt crudely, possibly-most-definitely-very-assuredly arthritically painted on the 88mm left a lot more than a little to be desired.

Platinum Team, already arguing about something despite the odd camaraderie she'd seen earlier, stood at the left side of their SOMUA, jabbing their hooves at the platinum, gem-encrusted crown painted on both cheeks of the tank's 47mm cannon and yelling something about it being slightly to the left, according to Busy, and slightly to the right, according to Blank. Forest just didn't want to have anything to do with it whatsoever, claiming that crowns were for rulers, and she didn't like those one bit. The large white 82 on the left of the turret remained from its proposed Prench service (something that actually kind of impressed Duck, considering they had to paint their tri-color scheme around the letters without going over the lines), and as did the newly-stenciled Horsepowers logo printed out on both sides of the front end where Blank, the Driver, sat. On the hull hatch facing Duck, she could see a red donkey crossed out by a blue X and replaced with a blue elephant, which itself was crossed out by a smear of yellow paint and covered with a golden leaf. Honestly, there were a lot more reservations about seeing just how Platinum Team worked in battle than curiosity. No telling what went on inside that tank.

Finally, with the Horsepowers logo easily being placed on either side of the front step next to both Flurry's and Graham's hatches, Vanilla had free reign—and Cookie Team's input—on where to put their emblem. After quite an internal conflict that, by the end, left the poor artist sweating, they'd all stared up at the tank from the grass and smiled at Vanilla's hard work. Duck especially, who was on the verge of exploding with giddy laughter and tackling Vanilla in a hug for doing such a good job. She'd done a good job of restraining herself, and as the class went to leave that day, she and Vanilla both left a puddle of sweat behind. A much-too-well-detailed chocolate chip cookie—more like a chocolate chunk actually—stood out proudly on the sides of the turret where the crew's squadron marking would usually go.

Duck hummed to herself, trying her hardest to ignore Bluebell still talking inside the turret below.

She really liked how the cookie looked.

"Duck?"

"Guh!"

She started in place, clenching her hooves, then stopped, blinked twice in rapid succession, and turned left, then down to find Mrs. Red staring up at her, clipboard over her eyes.

"I've gotta head over to the stands, now. Will you be okay heading over to the zone?"

Duck raised an eyebrow.

"Um... aren't you going to come with us to the center?"

Mrs. Red shook her head, and Duck promptly peeled her ears back.

"You can do it, Duck, don't worry."

Duck brought up a hoof, pointing it at the other crews who were still in the process of preparing. "B-But, what if they..."

Mrs. Red chuckled. "They're much too far into this to back out now. They won't put up a fuss if there's a lot at stake."

Helps. Thanks, ma'am.

Still noticing Duck's very happy expression, Mrs. Red tapped the side skirt of the Comet. "Go show them what we're made of, Duck. You can do this." She took a step back, puffed out her chest, and saluted her. Duck, unable to stop her response, returned the gesture. Turning around and beginning to walk away, Mrs. Red paused, looked back at the young mare, and added, "Good luck," before trotting away toward an Army Jeep waiting by the train station.

She watched Mrs. Red go awhile until, hearing static near her, she reached downward and grabbed her hoofheld radio and headset. Placing the latter over her ears and clutching the former tightly, Duck adjusted her position and placed her left foreleg on the roof as if to place her cheek in it. After a bit of white noise, crackling, and odd noises, Graham finally fixed the transmission channel, and the Ponyville Horsepowers began to speak clear as day.

"Ahhh, allllll right guys! Let's do this! Pansy Team, reporting in. We're dammit Candle put the book away ready to, hah, go when you are!"

Duck nodded, looking over at the Cruiser as Vanilla pulled her Driver's hatch shut and let it crash in the speakers. She shut her eyes a second and shook. The whole thing of hearing it and seeing it was always met with slight difficulty, to be honest.

"Puddinghead Team here. Ready to head out, just... let me... fix this here, there we go. Hey, Plastic, headphones out, we're gonna go soon."

"This iiiiis Platinum Team speaking. As soon as you all are done, we'd like to get going as soon as possible."

Duck frowned.

"Hurricane here! Let's kick some ass!"

"Whoooo!"

"Yeah yeah!"

"Let's go get 'em!"

From inside the Comet, Duck heard Graham call, "You want me to mute them, Duck?"

She'd considered it for longer than she would've openly admitted. "No, Graham, that's okay." 

She cleared her throat, realizing how dry it was. She'd have to dig into the water bag as they headed out. Wiping her mouth with a hoof, she shrugged her shoulders to and fro, popped her neck, and, after sucking in a sharp breath and letting it back out, held the button on the side of her radio.

"Okay, everypony. If we're all ready, we'll be moving toward grid space E5 on your maps." She heard the sounds of rustling as she began, and had to suppress a smile knowing they were all actually listening to her for the first time. She coughed. "We spent a few days on map reading, but I'll take lead this time around to help you all out. Just follow me, and we'll get to our destination."

"Where we headed, Duck?" Pine Needle asked in between swigs of her fresh coffee.

"Be-uh, before every match, the participating teams meet up at a designated Meeting Grounds to shake hooves, introduce themselves, and learn the rules if it's an early match or some kind of exception."

Hurricane Team was being eerily quiet. Surely they would have cackled at her single screw-up by now.

"All right, then," went Busy Body.

"Lead the way," Bit Rate said.

"Let's go already," Lily impatiently, finally, piped up.

"Right behind you, Lead," Pine affirmed.

Duck nodded, even though nopony else could see it. She steadied her breathing, arched her back to look around one final time, then nodded again. She brought up her radio. "All right, everypony." In. Hoooo. Out. "Let's get moving." Keeping her radio-grasping hoof outside, Duck crouched down to look at her crew, expecting worried, angry, or even scared looks. Instead, all four of them—even Bluebell—were brandishing determined expressions on their faces.

"You ready, Duck?" Arco asked.

"Let's show 'em what we're made of," Bluebell exclaimed.

"Ready when you are," Graham sang.

"We can do this, Duck," Flurry beamed.

They believed, so...

...

...so did she.

She nodded aggressively, then poked her head back out and held down the button once more.

"All right, Flurry, move forward."

CA-CHUNK!

VROOM, VROOM!

CHK-BROOOOOO!

The Comet, kicking up big cakes of dirt and grass, began to crawl foward before stopping, neutral-turning ninety-degrees to the right, and pulling ahead again to head toward the Meeting Grounds. Keeping a steady pace they could all get up to, Flurry drove the Comet up over a small hill and down it, driving the whole team southward along the edge of Horseshoe Bay's coast. As the Comet's Christie suspension re-adjusted to the flat plains after straining from the crest, Duck placed both her hooves on the roof of the turret and directed her gaze backward.

As if from stage directions, all four of her team's tanks appeared over the hill, bellies exposed until crumbling down onto the ground and leveling with the dirt. 

Hurricane Team's navy blue Tiger H1, its turret moving about here and there as Field Goal, presumably, finished her procrastination on checking the traverse's status. The words of encouragement hastily painted all over the hull, turret, and even some of the roadwheels did a bit to settle Duck's shaking hooves and quivering stomach, but only a bit.

Pulling up at an angle alongside it, then suddenly turning just as it was about to crash right into them, Platinum Team in their glossy SOMUA S35 moved about like an indecisive snake, as if its crew was constantly getting into arguments about switching positions and bullying each other no matter what they took. Suddenly, its turret began cranking around, finally settling on staring right at Duck. She let out a little noise, startled, then glared as the turret went back down to face forward.

Constantly trying to slow down, then having to speed back up, was Puddinghead Team's M5A1 Stuart, the heavy winds whipping across the fragile, light tank and causing its taped mees to flutter violently with the gusts, with a few of them almost tearing across the middle. Duck had half a mind to let them know, but found herself unable to click the button on her radio. As it pulled forward yet again, Duck could see what looked to be a very... suggestive picture of a farmpony showing his rear for all to see... on the rear of the Stuart's 37mm. Was... was that Gunny Sergeant Big Macintosh?

On the Stuart's right—to Duck's right—was Pansy Team in their Cruiser Mark IV, slightly wavy but still maintaining... whatever formation they all thought they were doing. Duck had wanted a simple line at least before the match began, but they seemed to be more open to something similar to the letter 'D', with her at the top left side of the curve if it were placed on the ground curve-forward. Though the green-leaf pattern stretched across the cruiser tank's entire figure was more artsy than tactical, she certainly would have to double-take if she ever encountered it without knowing it was there, and even then she'd really have to look for it.

The new Ponyville Horsepowers continued moving along, engines roaring, turrets rotating, and, in Duck's case, hearts pounding like a drum.

They still had quite a drive until they reached the Grounds.

She rested her chin on her forelegs, and the wind bled through her mane as the morning sun reflected the water off each individual blade of grass.





"This grass is making my ass itch."

"Literally how is it doing that."

Pine shrugged at Candle Light. "It just is."

Candle rolled her eyes, then followed the gaze and stared to her right. "Ugh..."

Duck scratched her hoof idly.

D-Dang it.

Not to say that Duck was an impatient pony. Far from it, actually. If anything, whatever was bound to happen to her in her life should just not come at all. At least then she'd be stuck with the wonders of it all, rather than stricken with the effects. She'd been taught patience growing up, and had become quite a master of the "art" with further teachings at the Academy. She could stand at attention, chest puffed out, garisson cap on, uniform around her, and stance unmoving for as long as was needed. The only problem she had was her imagination, and expected failures that had become more than just a norm for her on the daily. She could stand for hours, sure, but after awhile, the only thing that would move her is worrying if she should've been standing there in the first place.

She stood even now, all four buttons of her school jacket fastened nicely, and her collared-shirt and tie combo underneath still being just at the brink of being a little too tight. Her mane, messy as ever, was collecting a substantial amount of heat, but blocking her face and keeping her from getting a bad-looking tan. Arco had made a few jokes about making toast with her hair while they stood around. He didn't make those jokes anymore. Mainly because it actually worked. Even as the only source of cold coming to her right now, the wind made Duck shiver and wish she'd brought a scarf or something similar to get warmer.

Flurry, in the meanwhile, was unfortunately feeling the opposite. Bits of her curly mane wer matted against her forehead; a few locks dangled over her eyes, which the Alicorn took notice of just now, glared at, and suddenly blew out of her way, panting quietly. Arco, next to her, shuffled uncomfortably, looking away as red as a desert rock. On the ground next to her were three crinkled, crumpled, empty bottles of water that had done very little to stave off the temperature. Duck opened her mouth to ask her friend if she needed anything as she had done so for the past twenty minutes, but, just as she had done so, shut it and kept quiet. She might be annoying her.

Graham, as well, wasn't faring too well, but was far better off than Flurry was. The only source of her discomfort was her thick Pegasus fluff, which she'd told the rest of them caused her to heat up pretty easily. She also admitted that she... hadn't really thought about the whole being-inside-a-cramped-hot-tank-for-a-long-time thing before joining them, and though she was still adamant that she'd made the right choice, the package of water bottles was mostly kept up near the front of the Comet for her and Flurry to use.

The five of them stood in front of the Comet, with the rest of the class doing the same for their own respective tanks. Hurricane Team's Hoofball manners finally showed themselves as their crew put on straight faces and stayed quiet for the last half hour or so, only really straying from the task by looking around confusedly or curiously at the sudden, distant noise. Platinum Team, too, seemed to be employing their hobby's mindset, patting down their accessories and staring straight ahead as if waiting to swear in to the House. Even without their electronics, Puddinghead Team was being fairly quiet as they all waited, though Duck did happen to catch Bit Rate and Plastic Beach both looking around for their usual toys before, realizing their being out of line, going back to attention. Pansy Team looked to be in a trance-like state, eyes closed and chests moving up and down in time with each other. They were probably meditating. Hopefully, they were praying.

A tail flicked in her peripherals, and Duck dared a glance over to the Evade WC truck that had driven up about fifteen minutes ago, depositing what she quickly realized to be the two refs for the match today, one mare and one stallion. Dressed in Equestrian M14 jackets with black and white striped shoulder boards and donning HBT caps with the words Match Referee stitched on the front, they stood at attention in front of their converted ambulance, glaring like hawks with all the presence to match at the area that she and whoever Baltimare's Overall was would be standing as they greeted each other here shortly. Even while being a few feet away, they seemed to not even notice the Horsepower's presence. Duck shivered. If one of them even glanced her way, she might actually vomit.

Guh!

Oh. He was just checking his watch.

What an odd thing to have a stallion as a referee for a mare's sport...

VROOMMMMM!

An ear perked up. Duck sucked in a breath. Flurry, Arco, Graham, and Bluebell looked her way, then, realizing what she'd just heard, readjusted their posture and stood straight. The other crews, taking notice, did the same.

An engine... Continental R-975... 

Another. And another. One more? Two more!

Sure enough, just over the hill, the silhouettes of unknown tanks began to appear one by one until they totaled seven. At once, the indiscernible blob became a horizontal formation and, as they neared the center of the Meeting Grounds, and as what little sun could peek in through the clouds shone its rays, Duck gasped. Oh Gods she was so nervous oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods...

Kicking up a large cloud of dust, the Baltimare Galleons made their way over to the Ponyville Horsepowers, engines revving, turrets moving, and crews as well-disciplined as back at the Academy.

On the far left—Baltimare's right—was a peculiar tank: a Crumpish 3-Inch Gun Carrier trying its hardest to keep pace with the others, its max speed only being a meager 15 mph. The precursor to the legendary Crumpish Churchill series, it was equipped with a 3-Inch anti-aircraft cannon that could do quite a bit of damage to anypony unlucky enough to face it.

To its right, just as she'd predicted the engine had belonged to, was a Caneighdian Ram, the country's first tank. Based off the chassis of the Equestrian M3 Lee, it wielded a borrowed Crumpish 6-Pounder cannon and would have fared far better than the Lee over in Griffonia, but would have been pushed aside in favor of the M4 Sherman.

...and speaking of the oh-so-famous Sherman, right next to the Ram was one such tank, this one being an M4A2 if Duck was looking at it right. With the ordinary M2 L/32 cannon, but much better armor than the M4A1, it definitely wasn't an opponent worth shaking a head at.

On the far right was a tank that caused Duck to raise an eyebrow, then look at Puddinghead Team to find them narrowing their eyes. It was their M5A1's younger brother, the M3 Stuart, specifically an M3A3 with better protection, and more interior space to allow more rounds. Probably to be used as a scout, or a bug...

On its right side, a Yakyakistani T-26 1933 Model, fielding the 45mm cannon leagues greater than the 7.62mm machine guns of its older cousins. Painted in a hastily-made white camouflage, it must have just missed its chance to get into the Winter War, and looked completely out of place in the middle of the grassy field.

Next to it was a Griffonian Panzer II Ausf L, widely regarded as the country's most renowned recon tank, with major improvements over its past brethren on every front, namely in armor and engine power, while still wielding the same 20mm KwK 38 L55 cannon. Like the T-26, it was out of place in Baltimare's plains: dressed in Hinterhalt camouflage, it would be pretty darn easy to see if the need arose. 

Finally, right in the middle, was a Yakyakistani BT-7M, using a powerful V12 engine that gave it a lot more strength and range than the other BTs before it. Though its 45mm cannon would only give a bit more than a tickle to her Comet, it would devastate the lighter M5 and Cruiser. They'd have to be careful to avoid it.

...

There was something she'd missed upon first seeing the BT-7M, and only when it and the rest of its team stopped in line just as her own team had was she able to get a good look at what had caught her eye. It had been hard to tell if it was part of the tank, what with the trees far down behind them as they came up, but now, standing right in front of her, she could only blink.

What looked to be a large... brown... pole for lack of a better term was stuck into the back end of the tank, just behind the turret and sticking straight up into the air like a lightning rod. She looked at it every which way in an attempt to figure out just what it was, but, finding nothing really indicative, frowned.

"Is that aerodynamic?" asked Candle Light close by.

"Hell of a spoiler," Arco murmured next to her.

It was quiet for awhile as Baltimare's tanks began to first idle their engines, then completely shut them off.

The anticipation of what was to come was beginning to kill her.

Suddenly, each and every hatch on every tank but the BT-7M opened up, and, finally, their crews climbed, hopped, jumped, and leapt out from inside, landing in the dirt and staring at the Ponyville Horsepowers, murmuring all the while and giggling with each other mischievously.

Duck narrowed her eyes, studying their... outfits.

White button-up shirts underneath a brown longcoat. Nothing too out of the ordinary... except for the fact that, on top of that, many of them were wearing over-the-shoulder belts, satchels by their sides, sheathed scimitars at their hips, and, in a few cases, an... eyepatch, or a tricorne with... a... feather.

Duck bunched up her cheeks. "Um..."

Bluebell snickered, almost convulsing on the spot.

Flurry looked down and to her right, bringing up a hoof and quieting herself behind it.

Graham leaned over to Duck. Duck leaned over to Graham.

"Duck are we fighting pirates?" Graham asked quietly.

Duck only shrugged, then began to walk forward to take her place in the center.

BREE-THUNK!

"Hya!"

SWISSSSH!

Out of one of the top hatches of the BT-7M's turret came a large blur, which soared a few feet into the air and landed on the grass with a mighty THUMP! Puffing out its chest and placing a foreleg like an L across its breast, it gave them all a smirk and a growly hum. Finally, it opened its eyes—or, well, eye—and its mouth at the same time.

"Avast, ye dawgs!"

Duck blinked.

Somepony behind her simply went, "What."

The figure, which was now clearly an Earth Pony, reached up with a hoof, grabbed her black tricorne, and placed it over her heart as she bowed for a second. Duck, intending to return the gesture, suddenly let out a quick yelp as she heard something practically jump over to her and grasp her right hoof with a homogenous-armored grip, shaking it excitedly. Looking at what it was, Duck eeped.

"The name's Black Powder, lass, but you c'n call me Keg!"

Duck grinned sheepishly, looking for a way out... or underground. The hooves fell back to Earth. "Um... Duck Bill..."

Black Powder, or Keg, excuse her, bellowed into the air like a bird, "Aha! That be a fine name! I'll make sure ta cook one of ya tonight in your honor!"

"Guh..."

Keg opened her mouth to talk further, but was halted from doing so as the two referees finally remembered their mortality and stepped forward, blowing a devastatingly loud whistle even though nopony was doing anything wrong. Clenching her ears shut but maintaining her composure, Duck cleared her throat and propped up her ears to listen.

"Good afternoon, Team Leaders!" The mare started, her pleasant greeting marred by her still very-angry expression. "Today marks the first match of this year's Tank Warudo competition, pitting the Ponyville Horsepowers—led by Duck Bill—against the Baltimare Galleons—led by Powder Keg. This match's outcome will determine who will move on to face tomorrow's victor to the West, be it the Cloudsdale Storms, or the Appleloosa Tumbleweeds. As per tradition, the first match type has been determined beforehand. Referee Water will explain."

The mare stepped back, allowing the apparent Referee Water to take her place. He wiggled his mustache around as he worked his jaw, then finally barked, "This... will be an Obliteration Match!"

Duck seethed. Hard to lose, but hard to win as well.

"The rules are simple: your team must defeat all tanks of the opposite team to win. Once all tanks have been destroyed, immobilized, or otherwise rendered inoperable, the team is defeated, and the other wins immediately. I repeat, the match does not end until every tank of one team has been defeated. Do you understand?"

Referee Water first looked at Duck, his brown eyes staring deep into the depths of her soul.

"Yes, sir!" she shouted.

Referee Water gave Keg a sideways glance.

"Aye, sir!"

Referee Water closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh, then opened them once more and looked at both teams with swishes of his head.

"Team Leads, please shake hooves."

Duck stepped forward. Keg did the same.

Hesitantly raising up her hoof, Duck watched as Keg immediately grabbed an entire hold of it and shook it strongly with a grin.

"Best of luck, Commander Duck Bill."

Duck nodded.

"Good luck, Commander Keg."

They put all fours back onto Earth.

"If all is settled, you may head to your designated starting zone and wait for the match to begin. Good luck, everypony. Dismissed."

Duck, turning back around, instantly began to catch words in her team's hushed conversations that, as she grew closer to her own crew, came into light.

"Did you see that?" Lily asked, covering her mouth with a hoof so the Galleons couldn't see.

"Their Leader?" Bit Rate cocked her head, scratching the back of her neck absent-mindedly.

"Duh!" went Primrose, shoving an elbow into her Commander's side.

"Their Team Leader can't see squat with that eyepatch!" Pine Needle giggled, throwing up her hooves into the air.

"Cake," came Busy Body, humming to herself pleasantly.

"One-eyed pirate is going down!" spouted Field Goal, pumping a hoof with the rest of Hurricane Team.

"Oh-ho, we've got this in the bag!" Peanut Brittle exclaimed, already hopping up onto the Tiger and taking her Loader's position. Taking the hint, the rest of the Horsepowers began to clamber up and enter their respective vehicles, starting their varied engines up and waiting for Duck to lead them to their starting point. Duck, in the meanwhile, was already shaking her head at her team's cockiness, praying that they'd wash it away before the match started. Remembering Feenuhlay against Yakyakistan in the Never War, there was never, ever a good time to underestimate somebody, no matter how ridiculous they seemed. The Baltimare Galleons might have very well had a few tricks up their long sleeves, and Duck wasn't looking to see their hand.

Climbing back up onto the roof of the Comet after both Arco and Bluebell took their places, she dropped down into her makeshift seat and realized she was shaking like an autumn leaf in the air outside. Clenching and curling her hooves to stop herself, she steadied her breathing and turned to get a cup of water from next to her. Oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods... mmp, aaah... oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods...

"We can do this, Duck!"

Duck widened her eyes, looking wildly around for the voice. As expected, Graham was leaning around in her Radio Operator's position, brandishing a large grin.

Unable to help but crack a small, almost absent smile, and almost believing it, Duck nodded to herself rapidly, grabbed hold of her radio, and crawled back out of her cupola to face the chill winds once more. The Galleons, seemingly a lot faster at all this than her, were already turning around and heading toward their starting point, the BT-7M in the lead. Breathing in and out calmly, Duck depressed her button.

"All right Flurry, let's head out."

VROOMMMM VROOOOM!

"Everypony, on me."

"Roger that!"

"Right behind you!"

"All right."

"Of course."

With that, the Comet pulled forward, juttered her in her place, and began rolling toward their own starting point at grid square B2, up toward the Northwest in the direction of the train tracks back in Baltimare proper. The Galleons, starting at H8, were along the coastline, with free reign to head right into the dense forest covering up a slight margin on the lower left part of the match's playing area. They'd have to be fully aware of a brush ambush, but also take caution with the large amount of hills, plains, and fields creating heckish bumps all along the environment like the inner countryside of Prance just past Normanedy.

They'd have to be ready.

She just hoped that she was.





"Now where was..."

Arco flicked an ear then, realizing he'd fogged up his optics again, reached a hoof up, swung his jacket's sleeve out to cover the end, and wiped the lens, leaning over and asking toward the front, "Where was what?"

"What're you looking for?" Graham asked, turning around in her seat and moving her shoulder around idly.

Flurry hummed to herself, horn lighting up and beginning to lift things off the floor between the front step where she and Graham sat, and the turret housing where Duck, Bluebell, and Arco sat. A screwdriver here—which she disregarded in an instant and put back—a piece of crumpled paper there—which, after holding it up to the light, squinting her eyes at it, and attempting to unfold it, was quickly snatched out of her magic by a red-faced Bluebell, who grumbled nothings to herself and stuffed it into one of her pockets—and, eyes widening and lips smiling, a crinkling plastic bag that caused her to go, "Aha!"

She pulled up the bag, its rather basic looking logo accompanied by a little elf pony

The likewise clear, molded plastic tray previously bearing the entirety of its contents slipped out with a SSSSSS THUNK that wibbled and wobbled as it bounced off the interior floor of the Comet. Flurry, still holding the cover in her magic, bunched up her cheeks and gave Duck a telling look.

"Duck how many cookies have you eaten since we got here?" She asked in one breath.

Duck, who'd been captivated in a certain kind of pausing transfixion, chewed for a second, bits of fudge mint cookies getting on her collar. She wiped them away. Honestly, she was surprised herself, mainly because she hadn't vomited at all.

Arco, looking down as well, reached to the floor and picked up his own bag.

Empty.

"By the Gods..."

"She ate two whole bags," Graham muttered, as if realizing some kind of Earth-shattering fact that would change the face of the universe forever.

Duck clenched her shaking hooves, looking for a free water bottle to calm her nerves. It was as if she was fully shaved and forced to dive right into a Yakyakistani lake in the dead of winter at night as a form of harsh punishment. She was just so cold. A deathly shiver worked its way from her gut and up into her throat as she searched for the words, speaking them smally, "...I was hungry..."

Bluebell, her hindlegs kicking about like usual whenever she was bored, or not doing anything, or needing something to do apart from scribbling quotes on their shell casings, suddenly crinkled a peculiar-sounding object beneath her wake. "Ohp, hold up," she said, reaching down—which, in her location, combined with the general tightness and awful spacing, made the action look a lot more stressful than Duck thought she could ever handle—and fishing for what she'd touched. Grunting, she held up her own plastic tray. "Make that three."

Arco chuckled. "Du-uck, those were supposed to be celebration fudge mints."

Graham's eyes went wide. "Oh Gods no..."

Flurry burst into a big grin. "Guess what that means, guys!"

Bluebell, pupils shrinking to pinpricks, spun around, looked past Duck, and stared at Flurry. She frowned deeply. "No no no no no."

Arco grit his teeth suddenly, yanking his head back—barely an inch from thumping the hard ceiling again—and clutching the back of his skull with both forelegs. "Nooooooooo!"

Flurry, giggling like a schoolfilly (a younger one, mind), pulled out her schoolbag, opened ups it main flap, and, with a magical spotilight surrounding it, brought out her own plastic bag.

"It's wafer time, guys!"

Duck blinked, still quietly hyperventilating.

...

...what kind of wafers?

"I think if we all rush her, we can overpower her," Arco hurriedly, in a half-whisper, spoke with Bluebell and Duck next to him.

Flurry, craning her neck around and placing a hoof next to her ear, acted, "What? What was that? Did you guys say 'overpower me'?"

Arco waved her off. "No no, of course not! We love wafers, Flurry!"

"Because you know I can totally isolate what you just said and take you to court, right?"

"Guh!" Arco gasped. They'd been clearly joking around before, but it seemed that this one actually touched the stallion a bit.

Flurry blinked. "A young stallion, talking about overpowering a young mare? Without her permission? Very, very bad, Arco..."

"Holy shit, shut up," Bluebell spat, about ready to jump out of her seat... even if, as Duck looked at her in the lighting peeking in through the slits of her cupola, the Unicorn was a bit red in the face as well.

"Bluebell!"

"Language!" Flurry growled, tilting her head Duck's way.

Bluebell threw her hooves into her hips. Bringing the right one up and waggling it as she went, she argued, "Ummm, phrasing, Flurry!"

Flurry frowned, craning her neck back as if attempting to escape a webpage she didn't mean to click on.

Arco looked at her. "Are we still doing phrasing?"

Graham cocked an eyebrow. "Did we... start?"

"Like half an hour ago–"

CRRRKT!

Duck, waving her hoof around, silently quieted the others down so she could hear what was about to come next. Graham speedily whipped about to fiddle with the radio and make sure everything was working. If her admittedly poorly-maintained internal clock was still slightly functioning with even the tiniest of effort, the announcement that the match was to begin would be reaching them shortly, and she wanted to take full advantage of every second they had to find a good spot and either dig in, or head someplace else for a surprise attack. They'd been sitting there for about thirty minutes or so, waiting at their starting point of the match, and, hopefully, the other crews had followed her own team's example and went through a check-list of equipment, gear, and mechanics to make sure all was at peak performance. With her help, Graham checked off every time on their list pasted near her radio set: the engine, turret rotation, number of ammunition for both cannon and coaxials—the latter of which Duck realized they didn't need to worry about, with Graham not having one and Bluebell not even aware of the one in front of her face where she sat.

Her heart was pounding as she anticipated the starting call.

Through the white noise came a voice, and Duck sucked in a breath, feeling about ready to pass out from the suspense.

CRRRRRRRRRRKT!

"Hey, um, Duck?"

She blinked, then, letting go of the button on her radio a second, sighed. She depressed it thereafter. "Yes, Bit Rate?"

"What were we supposed to be doing again?"

"You mean ten, fifteen, minutes ago?" She asked without fully noting the venom in her voice.

Bit Rate actually swallowed, "We-Well, uh... yeah. Um... we just, I mean, uh... sorry."

Despite her whipping about of her mane, ignorance of it falling over her shoulder, and discontent hum to herself, Duck replied, "N-No, no, it's okay." Grabbing for the thrice-folded map next to her, she unfurled it and began studying it once more, the Meteor engine of the Comet bumping, jittering, and bouncing the paper as she placed it in her lap and bobbed her head to and fro. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you and your crew to go through your checklist I gave you. Make sure everything's in order, and tell me when you're done."

Bit Rate coughed a bit away from her microphone, the sound echoing inside the rather tiny M5's interior. Distinct tapping sounds, which Duck at first assumed to be Morse code, clicked and clacked as the transmission kept coming through. Somepony let out a long sigh, then groaned accompanying an obvious bout of stretching. Something thumped twice in rapid succession. A member of Puddinghead Team muttered in the background, "See?"

Tap.

"Ah, yeah, that's the one."

Tap.

"Pretty expensive though."

"Where'd you find it?"

"Oh, Casio showed me."

Duck cleared her throat.

"Guh!"

She tapped her radio. "Um... are you guys doing your checklist?"

FWOOP!

SHHHH!

FLIP FLIP FLIP FLIP!

Bit Rate coughed. "Uh, y-yeah! Um," again, she hacked, "hey uh, Autumn, engine good?"

"I dunno, feels like it."

"How's the gun, Primrose?"

WHIRRRRRR!

THUNK!

"Moving...?"

Seemingly realizing she'd been holding the transmission button down the whole time, Bit Rate let go of her radio.

CRKKKT!

"Oh Gods we're so screwed," came Bluebell next to her.

"Phrasing!" Arco jumped at the chance, pointing at Bluebell with a flash of his teeth.

Bluebell responded by slamming her hoof right into the wall next to her, not even flinching in the slightest.

"DAMMIT!"

"Hurricane Team, this is Cookie Team speaking, how are you guys doing over there?" Graham took over, thankfully. Duck wasn't sure she'd want to distract the Jocks from whatever unrelated thing they might have been doing. Probably... having a noogie party or... planning a... dorm invasion...?

What did risque kids do nowadays?

"Well, uh..." Whipgrass' voice came in on the speakers up front. Duck had put her headset around her neck, feeling it uncomfortably buzzing in her ear. She'd have to fix it after they were done. The sound of scratching meat came to her, and Duck involuntarily cringed. "...we went through your checklist and all, but..."

"Whipgrass can't read!" went Field Goal nearby.

"I can too! I just couldn't read, like, one word!"

"Yeah, it was traverse!"

"NOBODY USES THAT WORD EVERY DAY."

"Whipgrass is ill-i-terate!" Lily sang.

"Whipgrass is ill-i-terate! Whipgrass is ill-i-terate!" The others, besides, well, Whipgrass, joined in.

"Shut up!"

CRRRKKT!

Actually... remembering it still fresh in her head...

"Excuse me, Graham?"

The Pegasus looked back from her position in the front. She peered through the hole separating the two compartments. "Yeah, Duck?"

Duck tapped her headset. "My headset seems to be... buzzing for some reason. We might need to fix it." As well... "I noticed that the leader of the Galleons was wearing some kind of choker..."

Bluebell shifted in her seat. "Like the ones the insecure emo mares wear?"

Graham shook her head. "Those are throat mics. They pick up the vibrations as you speak, and are a lot clearer when you do so."

Duck blinked. How had she not heard of those? Oh Gods that's so embarrassing...

Bluebell seemed to notice the look on her face, and its telling story. "You were raised by Tankers."

Duck blinked.

Bluebell sighed, turning around and fiddling with her Loader's gloves again. She smacked her lips. "Figures. Go team."

"What's Pansy Team up to?" Flurry asked, as if she didn't already know the chakra-filled answer.

"Gimme a sec... here."

CRRKKKT!

"Hummmmmmmmm..."

"Hummmmmmmmm..."

"Mwaaaaaaaaah...!"

"Ohhhhh-waaaaaaaaa..."

CRKKT!

Flurry was quiet for awhile, contemplating some greater meaning. Why were they here? Were they the product of some cosmic coincidence, or was there really a group of Gods watching everything? With a plan for them, and stuff?

"Cool," she said simply.

Graham moved to switch over to Platinum Team's frequency. Flurry darted up in her seat.

"Don't you even dare."

A blink.

A turn.

"...and how, Busy Body, would you view this great nation?" Forest Fire asked calmly, her voice coming out much more booming at the moment.

It was quiet for awhile, and Duck looked over to see if Graham had already switched their radio back to normal.

Busy Body plucked at her lips. "I... now, people of Equestria, I have to admit, and disclose." Blank Check hummed disinterestedly, probably looking at pictures of money on her phone. "The... problem this country has, the biggest problem, is being politically correct. Being myself, I don't have time for political correctness."

"You made fun of a reporter the other day, Mr. Pee-See," Blank suddenly sneered.

"Show me the texts, Blank."

"What?"

"Show me the texts. Come on."

CRRKT!

Duck didn't even realize she'd buried her head in her hooves until her face began to get too hot to handle. Throwing her head back, and careful not to slam it against the wall behind her, she manically turned to her left, grabbed a little paper cup out of its packaging next to her, and began to pour water into it, which she greedily drank like a shot of whiskey.

That is to say, clumsily, with some spilling out of her mouth, and instant regret plaguing her system.

Bluebell, who would have definitely said something about the event, was interrupted as the rumbling of the Comet's engine finally toppled the plastic soda bottle Flurry had earlier, explicitly warned her would fall. Cursing to herself with a very naughty four-letter word, she leaned over, attempted to grab it off the ground physically, sat back in her seat with a sigh, then finally lit her horn and placed the bottle back onto the same counter bearing the tank's smoke grenade launcher. Oh, they'd forgotten to check that, hadn't they? It was on her checklist, she swore...

CRKKTT!

"Oh Gods, what now?" Arco fumed.

Somepony, clearly male, cleared his throat on the radio. Everypony sat up immediately.

This was it.

"Aaaaaatention match participants! The battle will begin in one minute! I repeat, you have one minute, everypony!"

CRRRKKT!

Like a wave, four other voices—accompanied by many behind them—suddenly burst into her ears, signifying the rest of the Horsepowers tuning in back to the team's main frequency. Graham, newly faced with a whole heap of gravy on her plate with no potatoes to be seen, frantically leaned forward and danced her hooves around knobs and dials to level everything again.

"Oh man, we've got a minute!"

"Our meditation is over. Everypony ready?"

"We're good here."

"Shelve the debate, if you would."

"All right, Candle, get ready to blow!"

"Phrasing!"

"Shut up, Pine!"

"We loaded?"

BREE-DOO-BREE-DOOOOOO!

"Did you seriously bring your melodica, Plastic?"

"Haha!"

"Ah damn, Nerds've got a player!"

"Hey, Plastic, you wanna play with us some time?"

"Whaddyou all play?"

"I'm harmonica. Vanila's guitar. Candle's banjo. Sweet Tea sings."

"Ugh."

"Buncha nerds."

"Yeah, not like you and your concussions and loss rate."

"Hey!"

CRRKKT!

"Thirty seconds until match start!"

CRRKKT!

"Anypony else's hooves shaking?"

Duck looked down at her's.

If somepony were to give her a pencil, and tell her to hold it or else something bad would happen, it would have already fallen by the time their first letter was formed with their mouth. Oh Gods she shouldn't have eaten those cookies... oh Gods she really didn't feel good at the moment... oh no...

"Scaredy-cat."

"Little queasy over here, actually."

Busy sucked in a long breath.

It was quiet on comms.

"What a lovely thing to see. The shakes of a nervous pony."

"Get loose, everypony. We'll be meeting with the Galleons shortly, and we don't need a stutter out there."

"Whaddyou think, Blank? Metropolitan society this time around?"

"Fair topic."

Busy hummed.

"Let's go have ourselves a debate."

CRKKKT!

"Ponyville Horsepowers!"

Duck held her breath.

"Baltimare Galleons!"

Her heart pounded in her head, deafening her.

This was it.

...this was it...

"...this match... has begun!"

As if sentient, the other crews' tanks' engines rumbled violently in response.

Throwing herself out of her cupola, Duck puffed out her cheeks, faced the harsh winds once more, and, winding back, threw out a hoof and jabbed it in the air in front of her.

"Panzerrrrrrr–"

"Get your paddles, girls!"

BROOM BROOM, BROOOOOOOOO!

Without warning, the Tiger lurched forward, immediately taking the lead and pulling up the position Duck's Comet was supposed to be filling. She grit her teeth, unable to speak as the other three tanks—mistakenly jumping the gun—began to follow suit behind the Griffonian monster. Already breathing rapidly, Duck knocked on the roof of the Comet's turret and yelled, "Flurry, take us forward!"

REWWWWWW, REEEEEEEEE!

Juttering forward unexpectedly, the tank about bumped right into the acting-caboose M5, pulling up from behind its right side and rolling alongside it. Duck, watched the Stuart keep a steady pace next to them. She lifted her hoof that was grasping her radio and depressed the button on the side. "Puddinghead Team, where–"

"We'll do recon!" Bit Rate giddily shouted. The Stuart, leaning backward as Autumn downshifted, kicked up more bits of grass and drove past the tanks still keeping a horribly-jagged formation she could barely call a line. As the dust settled, Duck blinked it away and waited for Flurry to pull up beside the SOMUA.

"Everypony, hold back! We need to think of a plan!"

"Plan?" came Busy Body, "I'll have you know planning is for the overly-prepared! What good's a long-winded plan if something suddenly comes up? Like, oh I dunno, a certain mare from Manehattan to ruin your campaign!"

The SOMUA, making a small, short, fat 'S' pattern in the grass, stayed on its left and began to crawl past the Cruiser.

"Pansy Team?!" Duck inquired, her head already growing icy cold. The team began to ascend a short hill; the SOMUA's engine puffed for just a second, stuttered, and began roaring again as the tank accompanied the rest of them. Puddinghead Team, though slowing down a bit, were still well a ways away from the rest of the class, easily thirty meters or so.

Pine smacked her lips, bringing Duck back to her headset. "All right, hear me out!" RUSTLE RUSTLE. "So there's the big-ass woods on the lower left, right? Why don't we just stop where we are and wait for them to come out from there? There's no way they wouldn't use it! We would!"

"That's because you're all a bunch of idiots," Whipgrass muttered. She tapped something thin, probably her own map. "Stay on the playing field an' don't go outta bounds. Let's just head right for them!"

"You don't just charge in," Busy Body attempted to state, very wrongly of course, "if we're gonna have a plan, why don't we just call in bombers and take them out before we get there?"

"That is literally not how Tankery works," Pine replied with a drone.

"What? Why not?!"

"You can't just keep pressing buttons on your dumb chair and bomb people!" Blank huffed, pulling levers here and there as the SOMUA indecisively changed directions.

"Watch me, sister!"

"Let's recon!" went Bit Rate.

Duck could barely even stop herself as she called, "No!"

Puddinghead Team slowed down again.

Oh by every God considered Holy and Undying, they were getting the Shakes!

They crossed a small dirt that seemed to stretch for miles in either direction, stomping over the various bushes and shrubs lining the trail as they passed and bumped up over small indents in the ground. Branches and leaves crunched and shook beneath their tracks, most notably from the leading Tiger, which was still in the lead. Pulling her map out from beneath her, Duck narrowed her eyes and examined its layout. Starting at B2, heading right and down... judging by the road on the map, they were currently somewhere between B3 and C3, favoring the latter as they continued moving Southwest in a scalene triangle of some kind crafted by a blind mare with no hooves. The wind whipped her hair around, and Duck took a second to brush a few locks out of her eyes before holding up her radio again.

Before she could even press her button, she was already stuttering and losing track of the words at the tip of her tongue. Sighing, exhausted, she shook her head and mumbled, "Oh Gods oh no oh Gods oh no oh no no no no..."

BRRRRRR-ROOOOOOOOO!

A pair of shadows shaded her for a second of her life, then passed along the ground and began to lead the Horsepowers toward their destination. Stealing a glance up, Duck watched as two B-24 Liberators buzzed overhead, almost wingtip to wingtip, and began to pitch over to their right and move more Westward so as to not give the Horsepowers' position away. Duck clenched her jaw. That was the Video Squadron, providing live video feeds from camera crews both both participating teams and displaying their footage on the viewing screens all across the country. The two Equestrian bomber planes straightened themselves out, then slowly became indiscernible black blurs amidst the thick gray cloud cover.

The wind stole her breath again, so she attempted to return to her own thoughts and not that of the match's announcers, who were surely saying ruthless, sarcastic comments better stuffed in a local mailbox with no stamp and shipped far, far away to end up in a ditch someplace to get buried by mud and snowfall.

"Oh what's this? Heh heh, looks like the Ponyville Horsepowers are, uh, havin' a bit of trouble here at the start of the match!"

"That you're right, commentator friend of mine who I can't remember the name of! It seems that they're pulling what my math teacher might have called a scalene triangle! Hey, commentator friend of mine who I can't remember the name of, you think they know Soh-Cah-Toa?"

"I don't think they know what a three point triangle even is!"

"Hahaha! And would you look at that, the ugly duckling of the Pumpkin family, not even leading her team into battle! Typical."

"You know her mother was adamant she be on the front lines when they entered Griffonia?"

"Same with Griffonia's Rommel! Gods, the bravery!"

"Certainly not shared with Ponyville's Overall, that's for sure!"

"Right you are, commentator friend of mind who I–"

SPLASH!

Duck recoiled as the Comet hit the small stream hard, spraying the thin line of running water up and into her face. Wiping her cheek with her right sleeve, she shook her head and had to hold on as her tank suddenly rolled up a sharp incline, then just as quickly slammed back into Earth and joined the others as they began to travel across a square of farmland surrounded by hedgerows and tall tree lines. A picket fence to their right told them to be careful with the owner's crops. Duck looked over at the Tiger just in time to see it knock over a scarecrow, send it in splinters behind it, and puncture a row of ripe pumpkins with sickening PSSSSS sounds.

Twin streaks trailed behind each tank, making an ice rink at an Olympic figure skating event look like foal's play.

Their engines roared, hissed, and sputtered like impatient animals—which honestly wasn't too unfitting a comparison—as if sensing unspoken rivalries between each other that needed to be made known at every possible second. Far and away to their left, yellow-green hills curved like bumps in a rice-infused chocolate bar, the sprawling city of Baltimare, its dock, and the open expanse of Horseshoe Bay's shimmering ocean glimmering brilliantly at them in the light gracing its hour as if beckoning them to abandon the match and take a dip for awhile.

The three vehicles in line with each other—that being Duck's Comet, which was nearing the front anyway, Platinum Team's SOMUA, and Pansy's Cruiser—overtook each other by mere centimeters to and fro, daring one of the others to break away at a breakneck speed and send the entire team running like headless chickens. Puddinghead's Stuart, seemingly bored, made S-patterns a ways away from them. Hurricane's Tiger, only able to pull 28 miles per hour out of its hefty V12, moved its turret around, assuredly because Field Goal was screwing with it again and not to actually scan the horizon for enemy activity.

The wind blew again, kicking up dust that joined their's and swept up high into the cloud layer still collecting over their heads.

And everypony was fighting.

"Go around, asshole!" Pine screamed.

"Never, you ungrateful millenial!"

"We're literally older than you!" Candle Light shouted, slamming her hoof around and eliciting a cry from Sweet Tea. Any more and she'd...

CHHH!

There go her glasses again.

"Shut up or I shoot!" Forest Fire threatened, beginning to crank the SOMUA's turret around.

"Don't act dumb!" Candle barked, cranking their own gun.

The Tiger stopped for just a second, then started back up again.

"Hey Lily, you mind not being a dickhead right now?" Pine snapped.

"Don't blame me, Woodstock, blame Hail."

"Hey, Hail, you mind–"

The Cruiser looked to be gaining speed, but it turned out that the Tiger had slowed down again before unhealthily powershifting back up to full capacity.

The sound of a hatch sounded over the radio, and Duck looked over to her left to find Pine Needle poking first her head and then her upper body out of the top of the Cruiser's main hatch. Furrowing her brow, and coughing at the rush of the air slicing into her skin, she shook an angry hoof and yelled, "Hey!" that Duck could hear on both her headset and next to her in the open.

Duck, shaking her own head, tapped the roof of her turret and ordered, "Flurry, increase our speed and get next to the Tiger!"

"On it!"

CHK-BROOOOOO!

The Comet veered to the left, unsteadily rolling alongside the Tiger H1's right side. Flurry must have been nervous about accidentally getting too far forward or trading paint that Hurricane Team would surely want back.

The hill that they'd been traveling along loyally began to become a descent, with both sides of it growing higher and higher until, as they all began to slow their speed down slightly so as to not go too fast, they were now sinking into a hybrid between a grassy mound in the Earth and a small valley of some kind, dense bushes dotted here and there in intervals on top and providing cover on their left and right from both the wind and anypony who could've been watching them. The other bumps in the plains around them stayed the same; they drove downward, heading toward a patch of forestry that Duck narrowed her eyes at but, realizing her current goal, directed her attention away from and back onto the Tiger.

Her voice was getting a taaaad bit higher-pitched now.

"Hurricane Team, listen! I think we need to make a proper plan before we head in!"

"Pfft, please!" She heard Lily reply almost instantly. A chair reclined somehow. "Look at us! We're in a Leopard!"

"Tiger," Duck corrected with a straight face.

"Same thing!" Lily shot back, "We're huge! What could possibly–"

BOOM!

All of a sudden, the left side of the Tiger burst into a cloud of flames and smoke, kicking the Griffonian Tiger a few inches up onto its right track and then back down onto the dirt trail with a deafening CLUNK! The Cruiser, right on its heels, stopped with a screech. The SOMUA, trying its hardest to roll up and overtake the Tiger beforehand, stopped what it was doing and disappeared out of Duck's peripherals. She couldn't even see the Stuart. Flurry yanked the two sticks back hard, causing the rear end of the Comet to raise up for just a second before lowering and helping the tank reverse a few inches.

At once, the flag on the back of the Tiger on the engine deck popped up.

SSSFICK!

"Holy hell!" Pine Needle cursed as the Cruiser began to backpedal in kind.

"They just got ammo racked!" Duck yelled... along with Graham. Though she had a million questions on her mind, she licked her lips and leaned over in her cupola to see if she could peer around the bushes for whatever had just taken down the Tiger, only to pull back and about stumble out of her position as another shell zipped past the front of the Comet and kicked up a thick cloud of loose dirt from the incline to her right.

Through the brush, she saw it.

The Caneighdian Ram sat in an open field just at the peak of a hill, its barrel newly smoking and staring right at them through the berry bushes.

She spoke without thinking, "Hurricane Team, are you guys okay?!"

Five coughs.

"Ugh, what in the hell?!"

"We're out?!"

"Damn it all!"

There were definitely more nearby. Darn it darn it darn it... the only way they could survive was fully turning the Comet around, giving the Ram enough time to plug them in the engine, stalling them with just one hit. 

She shook.

No, not the only way.

Her heart bursting in her eardrums and washing her head cold with ice water, she shouted above the ringing, "Arco, to our left, through the bush! Enemy tank, down a ways!"

The 77mm began to turn electronically, taking Duck's sights around and facing directly toward the lone Ram sitting idly by for their response. Stopping, the sounds of Arco's fine adjustments with the hoof cranks filled the area, mixing in with their engine and those of the rest of the team, bar the Tiger. The cannon barrel lowered, and Duck lowered herself to the roof of the Comet's turret and shut an eye, looking through the birdcage gun sight situated to her right side. Mouthing words to herself, she waited as the barrel descended, then slammed a hoof down and yelled, "All right, good!" when it landed right on the Ram's upper front plate.

"I've got 'em down here, Duck!" Arco called.

"Up here, too! Readyyyy!"

Arco tapped one of his hooves on the ground, waiting to press the pedal beneath him.

Duck sucked in a breath.

"Fi–"

VROOOOOM!

She jumped back with a noise, Arco doing the same as the SOMUA suddenly came streaking past directly in front of the Comet's rotated turret. On her comms came Busy Body; the SOMUA's own cannon began to turn around to face the Ram in the distance.

"Haha! Not today, Pumpkinhead! This one is ours!"

Before they could even fire, the front of Ram was covered by a small cloud of smoke.

BOOM!

EEEEEEEEYUH POONT!

The Ram's 57mm shell sailed through the air, letting the wind carry it right toward the SOMUA... and causing it to deflect off the front of the Prench tank at a shallow angle.

Thank the Gods for Mother Nature.

Almost instantly, Busy Body jumped at the opportunity.

"Good, job, Quacky!" She hissed as the SOMUA rolled forward and left, then back and right, then forward and further away to the left. "Spoil our shot!"

Duck zipped her mouth shut for the time being, but quickly re-opened it, "Flurry, turn us fully around and get us going!"

"Right!"

Mimicking the SOMUA's movements—the tank of which was now steadily booking it back up the hill they'd just come down—Flurry hesitated for just a second before throwing both sticks forward, sending the Comet up to follow the SOMUA and the Cruiser both as they left.

She spotted its tracks before it could even fully make contact with the ground.

Duck watched as the M3 Stuart mounted the hill just as the Cruiser and SOMUA passed it, its turret looking first the latter's way, then rotating to face the former. She grit her teeth tightly.

"Arco, M3 on the hill! Aim anywhere and fire when ready!"

WHIRRRRR!

THUMP!

"On the waaaaay!"

"Fire!"

BOOM!

CLINK!

The M3, having hit the dirt trail the Comet was traveling on at the exact moment of impact, tipped over onto its side, took some air, and lay there in a cloud of black smoke. On its left side facing the sky, its flag popped up.

SSSFICK!

"Flurry, shift gears!"

CHK-BOOOOOOO!

The Comet increased its speed, easily catching up with the Cruiser and SOMUA both and placing them on their left and right side, respectively. Keeping speed together, Duck found herself sweating, and barely caught Busy Body still chewing her out.

"Can't believe our Team Leader would sabotage her own tanks! Should've known how bad and fake you would be! Loser!"

"Would you shut up and watch your side?!" Pine yelled, breathing heavily herself.

Another rev of an engine caught Duck's ear, and she looked to the source just as Puddinghead Team rejoined them, thudding on the ground and taking up place behind Pansy Team.

"You guys do not wanna go out there," Bit Rate told them simply.

"Dammit, this is just like the trench run!" Primrose cursed.

"They're boxing us in!" Blank Check wailed into her hooves, causing the SOMUA to begin shakily moving about until, after realizing her current position, she grabbed hold of the sticks again.

Duck looked up toward the crest of the hill they were ascending. The blue horizon following the fading away of the cloud layer glowed down on her, almost like a guiding light toward salvation...

...a salvation which was bearing a new presence, slowly and steadily.

Duck swallowed a lump down her throat.

"You guys seein' this?!" Pine called through her ears.

"Ah, hell! Right in front!" Bit shouted.

Sure enough, rearing up on the sudden decline were the unmistakable tracks of the 3-Inch Gun Carrier, taking up the entire space of the trail in front of them and beginning to slowly lumber down the hill. It bottomed out with a loud crash, and its cannon began turning here and there to select its first target.

That cannon would easily take down the Cruiser and the M5... and the SOMUA wouldn't fare so well either... and with the flat front step of her Comet...

...oh no...

Duck depressed her button.

"Uhhhhh... turn!"

In a clear panic, all four of the remaining Horsepowers veered to their left or right, with the Stuart and Cruiser the former, and the Comet and SOMUA the latter, just as the barrel of the Crumpish Tank Destroyer burned with hot fire and sent its large shell right down the middle with a heckish sound that might've bled her eardrums if she wasn't already used to the noise of the sport. She hoped it hadn't hit the Tiger back there.

She looked around wildly.

That was surprisingly smart.

In an unintentional V-formation now, Duck held up her radio and exclaimed, "Everypony, aim your cannons right for the big plate on the front while it's reloading!"

She heard the sounds of the Stuart, Cruiser, and SOMUA turning their turrets around to aim for their target. Arco began adjusting his sights on the Carrier.

"Readyyyy!" Duck called.

"On the way!"

"Fire!"

BOOM!

CLINK!

Instead of a synchronized shot—wishful thinking on her part—Arco was the first to fire. The Cruiser went next, but its shot went too high and sailed up over the roof of the Carrier and disappeared from sight. The Stuart, taking a few more seconds, fired its cannon and nailed the tank in about the same spot as her Comet. As they neared it, Duck bit her lip, anxiously waiting for the SOMUA to shoot, which it barely managed to do just as they were about to fully pass it.

BOOM!

As if by some ungodly power, the Candidates sunk it right in the hole. Smoke billowed from the Carrier's engines, and its flag quickly shot up into the air.

SSFICK!

"Two down, five left!" Duck belted into her radio to be heard.

"I can't believe they took out the Tiger already!" Bit Rate quaked.

"I thought that thing was invincible!" Pine yelled.

Duck shook her head, then put her gesture into words and held her button down. "Not in the slightest! There're ammo racks all along the sides! Any gun that pens that takes the tank down in a second!"

It was quiet for awhile, almost to an uncomfortable degree. Duck checked to see if her radio had shorted out.

"What's the plan, Duck?!" Vanilla shouted in the background.

"Oh, so now they wanna listen?" Bluebell fumed beneath her.

"Bluebell, shut up and load that gun!" Arco demanded.

THUMP!

CLANK!

Duck cleared her throat, watching as the hills on either side of their little valley began to shrink smaller and smaller. They'd be fully revealed and back on the dirt trail soon. "Stick together and watch all our sides. Confirmed enemy Ram on our right back down where the Tiger is! It won't get here before we leave it, but be careful for the others!" She hummed. "There's no way this is just a random attack. This was planned."

BROOM BROOOOOM!

If the next stage of the Galleons plan was to have its Panzer II Ausf. L suddenly appear from behind the newly disappeared brush to their left and collide with the Horsepowers' Cruiser, it went off without a hitch. Bouncing off each other with loud thumps and sparks of metal, the two tanks slowly began to look at each other with their cannons, keeping speed as they did so. The Panzer was faster, but, just as it stopped rotating its turret, Pansy Team suddenly pulled to the right, then veered a sharp left, crashing right back into the Panzer and sending its shot at an upward angle. Unable to save itself, it sucked up a shot into the rear from the Stuart, then finally fell dead onto the road with a shell delivered right into its hull by the readjusting Cruiser.

"Woohoo!"

"Hell yeah!"

Duck let out a short breath, a smile playing at her lips. "Good work, Pansy Te– guh!" She flinched on the spot, taking note of a very unmistakable figure glaring down at them from a hill just to the right of the treeline in front of them. "Sherman on the right hill! She's about to fire! Scatter!"

As if sensing her order, her Comet and the other three tanks were already suddenly pulling away from each other, dodging the Sherman's shell that landed right in the middle of where that group had collected and sending a cloud of dust straight up into the air.

"Put some smoke in her face!" Duck boomed.

BOOM!

BOOM BOOM!

Three shells hit just below the Sherman, kicking up smoke and dust that caused the Equestrian tank to back off and slowly slink back behind its hilltop.

"Four to four, guys!" Pine came in on comms.

"Keep an eye out for that Sherman!" Duck reminded them, "That cannon could take any of us down with a good hit!"

"We'll take it!" Busy boasted to her right.

"Sharp left turn! Left!" Duck commanded so Busy wouldn't start up another rant of some kind. "We'll try and head along the right side of the hill and see if we can't get away from here!"

"Gotcha!" went Pine, patting somepony—presumably Vanilla—on the shoulder.

"Yup," went Bit Rate, clearly focused.

"On it," went Busy, adjusting her tie with audibles fidgets.

They did so, the Comet leading, and pulled a hairpin turn before proceeding back down the hill they'd been going down before the Tiger was defeated, this time on the top side where they could see better. The Sherman wouldn't poke its head out immediately, especially seeing as how nopony else on its team seemed to be around, so they'd have enough time to turn right and try to disappear further down the plains and maybe try to lose them at the edge of the forest nearby.

The Ram suddenly made its presence known, rolling out of the bushes and landing with a hard thud on the grass a ways away from them. At the same time, the T-26 burst out of cover from behind one of the ridges she'd intended on taking cover in, heading right toward the Ram as it charged them in kind. Just as it seemed to Duck that the two crews were too focused on shooting them and would end up crashing into each other, their turrets began to turn, and she realized their intention.

"They're broadsiding us!" Bit cried.

"What the hell are they doing that for?!" Pine hollered.

"They're friggin' pirates!"

As if to accentuate Bit's answer, the Ram and T-26 fired, the T-26 passing in front of the Ram and the Ram rolling right past behind its teammate seamlessly. Their shells were true, and a shot nailed the Stuart right in the cheeks of its hulls, sending the angled armor in pieces but otherwise keeping them alive and active. The other shot would have obliterated the Cruiser right in its turret ring had it been an inch closer. Still, its effects were met with fright, and Pansy Team darted to and fro around as if to shake away an imaginary fire.

Duck opened her mouth to tell Arco and the others to take the chance and fire, but ducked down into her turret as the squealing of a shell made itself known to her in the depths of her ears and made itself present by soaring right where her head had just been. Ignoring the sudden cry from Bluebell and the gasp from Arco, she sprang back up and turned around in her cupola, watching as the Sherman began to head down their way from behind.

BOOM!

BOOM!

Without her command, the SOMUA and the Cruiser took shots. Both missed their targets, with one kicking up dirt in front of the Ram and the other blowing apart distant trees far past the T-26.

"Sherman, right behind us! Everypony, go as fast as you can!"

"Right!"

The two Galleons tanks, having completed their pirate ship-like attack, were now beginning to close in around Duck and her team from either side like a beetle's pincer, their cannons turning slightly to get right at their hulls.

She was in the lead, the Stuart and SOMUA were side-by-side behind her, and the Cruiser was behind the SOMUA on the right. 

"Puddinghead Team, Platinum Team, on my mark, cross each other and head right for the tanks!"

"Who the hell's Mark?" Busy thundered.

"Just listen!" Blank tutted.

The Ram and T-26 were closing in now, seemingly trying to snatch up the Cruiser lagging behind in some kind of sharp claw.

The Comet pulled past the two.

"Mark!"

She heard the sounds of screeching and disturbed Earth behind her, and dared a look to see the Stuart and SOMUA awkwardly angling themselves and scissoring like the two "pirate tanks" had just done to them. The Galleons tank crews, not expecting this, stopped what they were doing to keep a steady target on their approaching opponent.

BOOM!

BOOM!

SSFICK!

SSSFICK!

She heard Bit Rate read it out in her ear, "T-26, down!"

Busy Body now, "Ram, taken care of!"

"Two to four, ponies! Let's finish this!" Graham suddenly piped up, squealing as she did so giddily.

"How you doin' down there, Flurry?" Arco asked.

Flurry remained quiet, her different levers and switches moving around erratically.

"Still that Sherman behind us!" Duck pointed out.

"What's the plan?" Pine asked as her Cruiser veered around and turned its turret around to face the approaching tank.

The hill, the crest...

"Keep him busy and try to dodge his shots! Angle yourself if you can! We'll try and get around his side!"

"You're sacrificing us?!" Busy sputtered out with a gasp.

"You cold-water eel!" Blank joined in.

"I doubt any of your cannons could reliably penetrate its front. The best way to take down a Sherman is from the side! Flurry, take us to the left and back onto the hill!"

"Right!"

The Comet shifted over to the left and, after crunching up a nice helping of brush, it jumped down onto the dirt trail and slid around at the bottom, beginning to roll up to the top again.

BOOM!

"All right Arco, when we get up there, that Sherman's gonna be right on our left side firing at the others. Aim for the thick part right in the middle, just below the turret. That's where their Gunner, Commander, and Loader are. They'll be dead in the water."

"Gotcha!" He replied, flicking the switch back to Automatic and turning the Comet's turret around.

VROOM VROOM!

Duck flinched.

VRRROOOOOOO!

WEWWW!

Just over her head, shading her from the clouds, was the bottom of a tank that leapt over the right side of the hill without pause, soared for about two seconds, and disappeared into the brush to her left... back toward the others. Duck swallowed a lump down her throat.

"Flurry, take us up there, quick!"

The Comet shifted into gear, rolling forward at a faster rate and finally reaching the top. Turning hull to the left, the cannon aimed at the still-firing Sherman's side... and allowed Duck a look at what had just arrived on the battlefield.

Its long brown pole sticking straight up out of the engine deck, its roadwheels spinning at an impossible rate, and its entire figure drifting, turning, and sliding about as if it was on ice, the Baltimare Galleons' Lead BT-7M had finally made its combat debut, and was already dealing out a lot of confusion with its stunts.

It charged Pansy Team, then darted to the left and lightly love-tapped the back of the SOMUA, making a half-circle and aiming right at the Stuart's side as it went back around. Platinum Team, having none of that, pulled forward and created a shield for Puddinghead Team, then turned its turret around and fired at the swiftly-dancing-about BT-7M, which dodged the shot with a quick deviation from its course and began to charge Duck's Comet.

Now or never.

"Ready!"

"On the wayyy!"

"Fire!"

BOOM!

SSSFICK!

CLINK!

"Flurry, turn hull left!"

The Comet shifted about, and, realizing its opponent had just angled itself, the BT-7M took a harsh right to get behind the Comet and nail it in the engine.

"Flurry, charge the others! Puddinghead, Pansy, Platinum, watch our backs for that BT!"

"Roger that!"

"Gotcha!"

"We're on it!"

BROOOOOO!

The Comet sped up past the newly-defeated, newly-smoking M4, passing by its turret and rejoining the others, who only stopped moving forward once she fully immersed herself with the group and turned around.

"Anypony see 'er?!"

Duck narrowed her eyes, watching the area the BT had vanished into not ten seconds ago.

"I've got nothing," she said into her hoofheld.

"Same here on left," Pine noted.

The Stuart reversed hard and began facing the right side. "Nothing at our rear."

"Hear anything?"

Sure enough, she didn't need to.

"There!" called Pine.

The BT-7M burst out of the brush in front of the M4, crossing dirt trails with the Comet and swerving left and right to avoid their shots as they sent them.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

PFFF!

PFFFF!

PFF!

Arco waited. She could hear him mumbling below.

"Come on... come on..."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Do it!" shouted Bluebell.

"On the wayyyy!"

"Fire!"

BOOM!

She didn't even hear the spent casing hit the floor, her attention fully focused on the shell as it soared through the air for a single second, missed Arco's target of its turret, and found a much better spot right in the engine. At once, the BT began to billow smoke and, puttering loudly, it drove around like a drunken snake and disappeared into the thick forest to their left.

It was quiet for awhile as the sounds of the tank's engine became more and more distant.

And then there was cheering.

"We did it we did it we did it oh my Gods we did it!"

"Holy hell, we did it!"

"Woohoooooo!"

"Yeaaaaaahhh!"

"We diiiid it, we diiid it!"

"We did it, guys!"

"Duck!" came Arco, "we actually did it!"

Duck shook her head, perking an ear up.

Her heart was beating out of her chest.

The coastal winds seemed to be growing stronger and stronger the longer she glared into the depths of the treeline. She was waiting for the flag... but she wasn't able to catch it. The smell of smoke was still there, slightly, but not as much as it had been before...

She steadied her breathing, feeling every breath passing through her. Once. Twice. Three times.

Her heart skipped a beat.

BROOOOOOOOOOOM!

Out of the corner of her eye on their left side was a large figure. It flew from out behind one of the hills past the T-26 and sailed through the air, the rear end of whatever it was still puffing out little clouds of white smoke.

The BT-7M wasn't down yet... and attached to its brown pole was a large, white, rectangular sheet of cloth bearing a black skull and crossbones.

It wasn't a spoiler, or a decoration.

It was a mast!

Somepony on her radio blew out her microphone.

"NANI?!"

The sail rustled violently with Baltimare's coastal winds, sending the BT-7M over to the four of them within seconds' time. Instead of firing at them, however, it zipped past the Cruiser and the Stuart and began to flee in the direction of the downed M4.

"Don't let her escape!" Busy cried out as her SOMUA kicked up dirt and began to give chase.

"Let's go!" Bit Rate exclaimed as she too started her pursuit.

Duck, having lost it miles and miles away, found her voice again. She stuttered, unable to get her words out. "Uh, I-I-I-I, Arco, j-j-j-j-j-!"

She looked up, her breath escaping her, as, in the distance, she watched Puddinghead and Platinum Team follow the BT-7M furiously, kicking up dust and almost ceasing Duck's point of view from being successful.

Suddenly, the BT's sail whipped about to the right, and the entire tank, taking the full brunt force of the movement, spun its rear around like a cracking whip, tip-toed on its two front fenders like someone doing a hoofstand dance, and landed back onto the Earth with a loud crash! The Stuart and the SOMUA, having ended up too close in their greedy hunt, collided with each other, their two ends bouncing off the other tank and sending their crews in a noticeable, unmoving daze that the BT's crew took advantage of to shift gears and reverse behind one of them, that being the Stuart.

Candle Light, clearly intending to fire at the BT before it did so, let loose a shell just as the Yakyakistani tank finished its maneuver. Her shell bounced off the side of the Stuart's hull, ripping apart one of the large pieces of printed-out paper taped there. As if sensing the loss, Autumn Leaves was sent into hysterics.

"Nooooo, our dank memes!"

Pine, growling and snarling like a dog, shot back, "Errrrrr, shut up!"

The BT poked out from behind the SOMUA as Pansy Team reloaded, aimed, and fired.

The Cruiser, having been next to the still completely at-loss Duck, burst into flames and started to shoot out thick clouds of smoke.

Its flag was deafening in Duck's ears.

SSSFICK!

The BT, realizing that the Comet was still aiming in its general direction, kept up its makeshift tank cover and sped away in a blur down to the right.

"Uh..."

"Gods, my head..."

"The hell?"

"Pansy Team is down!" Graham shouted into her radio.

Busy Body was left to hiss at the information, but Bit Rate only let out a long roar that was accompanied by her Stuart almost doing a wheelie and chasing after the BT yet again.

"Pansy Team, are you okay?!" Duck shouted finally, her head swimming in a pool of frozen molasses.

"We're good...!" Vanilla grumbled, groaning all the while.

"Bit knocked up, but we're fine!" Sweet Tea sang, her serene voice betraying their defeat.

"Phrasing..." Pine replied, before the sound of her hitting the floor thunked in Duck's ear.

Duck shook her head. "Flurry, pull us over past the M4! Try and give Arco a good shot at the BT! Arco watch out for the Stuart!"

"On it!"

"Gotcha, Duck!"

VREWWWWW!

The Comet pushed its way steadily forward, Arco rotating the turret around to their right to try and locate the the BT before it could locate them. Crunching shattered armor plating and doors under its tracks, they moved past the dirt trail and the 3-Inch Gun Carrier still lying there, then remained at the top of the hill and looked down at the field stretching out before them. Duck narrowed her eyes, having forgotten her binoculars on the train.

"Spot anything, Arco?"

"Not yet, Duck! I'll keep an eye out!"

CRRKKT!

"̳̼̈́͑ͧ̅ͪO̵̗̬̤͖̼͚̩͛̇ͥͪ͛ͅn̵̗̗̤͓͐͛̆ ̫̰̙̻̟̘̙̻̫ͤ̎͗ͪ̿̾̍̽̆̕͠y̶̢̤̯̤͇̺̻̻̦̤̑̒̎͂ͬ̋̒̅o̯̼͇̲̖͗ͤ̓̎ͅṵ̪͉ͤ̌ͧ̎͂ͫ̚̕r̦̦̮͋̆̏͢͢ ̱͖̠̯̳͌͗ͣͨ̒͑ͪ͘ͅr̿̒ͪ̋͏̟̣̰͎̗̩͍̣ͅi̵̷͍̦͓͈̪̼̻̟ͬ̆ͯ͐̑̀̚ģ̱̩̳̘ͨ̈́̃͋̽̈́h̵͎̯̘̑̿͆̎ͯ̆ͅt̑̇̅̊ͮͭ̏ͨ͐҉̲̪̪͓͞!͙̝̎̈́̋̀́͝ͅ"̷͔ͤ͐ͣ̋͌̈̀

"What'd she say?" Flurry asked, panting softly.

The sound went in and out as Graham adjusted dials here and there, squealing and pitching up and down.

"It's Puddinghead Team!" Graham called out.

"What's wrong with their radio?" Bluebell asked.

Graham let out a short breath. "I-I dunno! Hold on!"

THUNK!

"On your right!"

Duck's heart seized.

Right!

Right!

Right!

NEEEEEEYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The impact threw Duck against the side of her cupola, sending her stomach first against the rotational ring and almost slamming her nose-first against the roof. From inside, she could already tell what had just happened as Arco and Bluebell began coughing in horrible fits. Arco, in his attempt to wave the wafting smoke around and away from his face, swatted Duck's left hindleg twice. Flurry and Graham began to join in as well and, daring a peek inside, Duck shielded her eyes and looked inside the turret.

A hole about the size of the circumference of her hoof was letting in the daylight through their turret ring, letting in smoke and pushing it out in a blinding fog. Arco, holding his sleeve over his mouth, leaned over to his left and attempted to move the turret around with its winches.

"D-Dammit, it's not working!"

"What's not?" Bluebell shouted much too loudly. Her ears must have been ringing from the blast.

"What kind of shot was that?" Graham coughed out, "It went right through!"

"Our... damn... turret traverse, I-I-I can't move it around!"

No working turret traverse meant no moving turret... and who knew what else had been damaged.

She was mildly hyperventilating now, and sucking down breaths of air as hard as she could.

VRRROOOOOMMM!

She threw herself out of her cupola and watched the BT as it drove right ahead of the Comet, the Stuart right on its heels.

"Dammit, we're out?!" Busy shouted over comms.

"How many shells did we load?!" Forest grunted.

"I thought somepony else would get the rest!" Blank defended herself.

"You idiot!"

"Godsdammit!"

Ripping and roaring across the dirt, the BT led the Stuart to the Comet's left for four whole, undisturbed seconds, until, shifting its sail around once more, it glided around like a pendulum just barely an inch off the ground, landed on the ground facing the complete opposite way, turned its turret, and fired right into the Stuart's side as, too fast to stop, it drove right past them.

SSFICK!

"Errrr!"

CLICK.

SHHHHK!

Duck looked over at the SOMUA next to them, and suddenly flinched as the left side of its turret lit up with small fires.

TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

Its turret-mounted Reibel MG began to spit out hot lead, spitting through the air and beginning to punch holes all across the BT's sails when it managed to aim straight.

TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT CLICK!

The SOMUA was quiet for a second.

"It's still full!" Blank shouted.

"Damn thing jammed!" Busy huffed, slamming her hoof on the MG from inside.

"What now?!" Forest cried.

Duck didn't know! Oh Gods what were they gonna do? Her Comet had effectively become a casemate, and the SOMUA was out of ammo for its cannon and had jammed rounds into its MG!

Busy growled, "Forest, gimme that suitcase."

"Here!"

THUMP!

TICK TICK!

SWISSH!

"What in the hell?!" Forest shouted.

Duck looked over as the SOMUA's Griffonian-made cupola flew open with a BREEE-THUNK!

Busy Body, standing now with her upper body poking out of the cupola, brought out an object that immediately caused a reaction in Forest Fire, Blank Check, and herself.

"You brought a GUN?!" Forest Fire squawked.

"YOU PUT THAT MURDERING THING AWAY!"

An M3 Grease Gun. Where did she get that?

CHK CHK.

"I'll show you my Second Amendment!"

She placed the wire stock against her shoulder, tilted her head, and began firing at the BT-7M as it turned to charge them.

DUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUT!

Seemingly caught by genuine surprise, the BT-7M whipped around and about-faced, fleeing the scene once more. As the SOMUA started up again and began to chase after the BT, Busy Body still unloading into it, Duck poked her head back into the Comet and called, "Flurry! Turn hull and try to help Arco aim at the BT. Arco, on my mark and get ready!"

"Let's do it!"

"All right!"

The Comet began to rumble as it neutral steered to the left, aiming right for the BT as it attempted to escape the armed pony still firing at its sails with Equestrian .45 ACP rounds. 

DUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUTDUT!

On her radio came a click!

"YOU ONLY BROUGHT ONE CLIP?!"

"It's a magazine you insufferable troglodyte!"

The BT, noting the sudden lack of bullets flying at it, did a 180-drift, charged its left side, realized that Duck's Comet was aiming at it, and took cover behind the SOMUA just as Arco stomped the firing pedal.

"Damn it! I didn't mean to!"

"Bluebell, load it!" Duck commanded.

THUMP!

CLANK!

"We're loaded!" Bluebell exclaimed, just as the sound of the SOMUA's flag popping up reached Duck's ears.

SSFICK!

Her head was feeling fainter and fainter and fainter. Oh Gods she was about to pass out.

The BT turned a sharp right and began to run right at them.

"Focus!"

She wasn't even sure if she'd said that or not.

"Get readyyyyy!"

She blinked.

The sounds of both the Comet's engine and the BT's sounded so far, and yet, so close.

"Fire!"

BOOM!

Their shell zoomed through the air, straight for the BT-7M...

...and soared right above its turret, zipping into the trees and vanishing in an instant.

The BT-7M lined up a shot, stuck its aim, and fired right at their lower glacis.

The shot hit Duck like a mule, sending her spine-first into the back of her cupola. Gritting her teeth as a noise burned in her ears, she steadied herself on the roof of the turret, shook her head, and let out a breath.

She fell back down into her turret between Arco and Bluebell.

Before she passed out, she could hear it, calling out her failures and reminding her of her.

SSSSSFICK!