France
Western Front
1916
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The trench was quiet as the German soldiers watched no man's land, waiting for the coming assault. The sun shined brightly across the war torn fields, revealing the destroyed land and dead bodies. This war had gone on for long enough as far as some of these soldiers cared, but they knew that they had to fight for their Empire. They knew that their lives could have ended on this day.
Many of them jumped slightly when they could hear the sounds of motors, but they relaxed when they figured out the vehicles were coming from the rear. Some of them turned around to see that their own vehicles were coming to support them. They were dragging anti-tank cannons behind them, lining up in a line. Some soldiers moved to assist in setting the weaponry up along the line, none questioning the addition of an odd symbol alongside the Iron Cross, a strange triangular shaped mask on the edge of the Cross. At least four of the German vehicles had this mark on their hull.
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The British general watched through a pair of binoculars as the Germans set up their weapons. He sighed, lowering his gear to look back at the line of soldiers who were destined to charge at that will of guns. Many would die, but that was the way of modern warfare. He had some hope, however, because they were not going in completely unarmed. He turned to the new tanks that the British had developed, the Mark I tanks, seeing them getting ready to drive up and decimate the German line.
Amongst those tanks were two utterly plain tanks; one Mark I tank and one Renault FT light tank. Both had the same camouflage patterns as the rest of the tanks, but the light tank had a hint of yellow and black, and on the hull, the insignia of a cartoonish bee, and on the other, paint of flames running along the tread hull.
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The British soldiers were waiting in their trenches, anticipating the blow of the whistle that indicated their charge. These young men knew that they had to win this battle, or else the war would certainly be lost. The artillery that had been pounding the German line rang out again, causing some of them to jump. Some of these men joined for the classic way of war. The honorable form of fighting: marching in line, formations, order, the likes. This new form of war was just death and destruction.
The tanks rolled up to the British trenches, an indication that the real battle was about to commence. Some soldiers turned to see a Mark 1 tank wait just behind them, a strange crest on the hull. The door opened up and a man with muddy brown hair and emerald Green eyes stepped out, looking to the waiting soldiers.
"Alright lads, the battle is about to begin! Just let us tankers move up front and we'll take most of the heat! For King and Country!" The tanker's words boosted some of the soldier's morale, getting cheers from those who were nearest to him. The man then looked across the line, spotting some tanks that just so happened to be facing him. He moved to a nearby officer and grabbed his attention. "Sir."
The officer turned, seeing the tanker. "Ah, William Brown, what can I do for one of our most skilled Scottish tankers?" The officer said, hints of sarcasm lining the latter part of his sentence. The man, William pointed towards the German line, more specifically to the German tanks.
"I require the artillery to cover No Man's land with a smoke screen in that area. Think ya could make it happen, lad?" The officer's smug appearance disappeared as he took a look at the tanks that were about to pounce on their soldiers. The officer then turned back to William, eyes wide in shock.
"I hope you aren't going to take those on by yourself! That would be suicide!" The officer shouted, grabbing the attention of some of the soldiers. William simply shrugged, walking back to his Mark 1.
"When 'ave I eva let the Crown down? Just let me work me magic, aye?" He replied, opening the hatch to his tank. As the man climbed in, he turned back to look at the officer and winked, closing the hatch. Just as it closed though, the officer believed he saw a flash of blue light. Being a religious man, he believed that it was a sign from God, turning around and ordering some of the Artillery to load smoke canisters.
A few moments later, the artillery barrage stopped, and the whistle was blown. The British tanks began rolling forward, tearing up the terrain as they moved into No Man's Land. Shells and bullets flying from both sides, some finding their marks, others hitting the dirt and mud. The blasts from the shells fired from the Anti tank turrets and the tanks themselves kicked those unlucky few that were near the epicenter into the air. The battle of the Somme began now. But a more ancient war was continuing.
The British artillery fired, providing a smoke screen for William, as he requested. The tank he drove entered the fog, and as the officer watched, he hoped that God was truly on their side. The smaller French tank joined William in the shroud, and the officer spotted the four vehicles enter the haze as well.
Within the smoke, shots were fired as shells bounced off armor. One of the German light tanks then charged straight for William before it seemed to break apart. But those six knew what was happening. The Cybertronian was merely changing into his true form, a club-like weapon ready to be brought down on the Mark 1. The Cybertronian ran towards the Mark 1 tank, purple eyes and lights glowing, being the only significant thing about the alien's disguised body. It raised its club and swung down, cheering as its weapon struck.
But the weapon did not strike. It was caught, a hand holding the club. The Mark 1 tank began to transform, the hand crushing the weapon and shoving the alien back. The once boxy tank began to take a humanoid shape, arms and legs made from the interior and the hull, the two main cannons on the shoulders, giving this alien a very angular appearance. The tread armor where the flame markings had been were now acting as this beings chest, and the head popped out from the torso, revealing the face of the Cybertronian.
"See, Bumble Bee? Told you that those other small humans were working with Cons." Scorcher said, hands resting on his revolvers' grips. The smaller tank, Bumble Bee, quickly transformed, the bee motif on one of his "wings".
"We don't know that for certain. Maybe these guys are just hiding out with their vehicles." The Autobot scout said, his right hand transforming into a cannon
"Doesn't matter. It's time to scrap them." Scorcher said, pulling out his revolvers and taking aim for the four Decepticons, who had dropped their vehicle forms and were upright, ready to fight back.