You'd think people would hate the idea of a televised execution, its revolting, isn't it? Well, death row criminals now have the option to fight their way out, in a completion using replicas of old relics, like the T-34 and the Sherman, my name is Kyle, and I'm innocent of my convicted crime, and this is the story of how i became a free man again.
I fired up the old thing, a M3 Stuart, and looked around before locking myself in that box. It was loud and hot, but my headset let me communicate with the rest of the crew. "We're Fired up Bossman!" I yelled into the mic. "Then move our ass Killer!" He yelled back, the noise hurt my head, but I did as I was told, moving forwards, to the enemy lines, and by extension, their Capitol. I couldn't see a damn thing out my viewport, so Bossman told me when to turn, brake and run, and how hard. It wasn't fun, and it wasn't easy, but it was a chance at freedom, my only chance.
It wasn't long before some less than friendly faves showed up too destroy our little tank, and they were big, "Big Russes, looks like 28s, fire at the square bit Billy!" I felt the tin can rock as he fired, and a large explosion, ammo detonation, and not ours! Quickly i ran her to the building ahead, trying to prevent us from being blown to bits. And then we saw it, the enemy Capitol. "FIRE, Billy, FIRE!' Bossman was ecstatic. "Not bad Killer, not bad at all." I saw the tower crumble as our little 37mm gave it all it had, and we hit another lucky shot, right in. Stop fuel reserves, a big win, it went up in flames, crumbling in on itself in seconds.
I was new blood in this crew, in this game when you die its over, so you hope to latch on to a nearly free crew, I wasn't that lucky or smart. Smokepole was a fresh crew with only 6 of the needed 100 battles to be home free, it sound impossible, ands it nearly is.
If we were lucky, we'd have a new tank awaiting us, or some Credits for beer and food or even a tank of my own. I was giddy driving back, going as fast as i could, until i reached the big metal door, it opened and we drove in, to be moved into our Garage and Bunks. A thousand creeds, not a bad score considering a basic meal cost 1. I'd save it, for my own tank, a Stuart to tart with, then a Sherman, or even a Pershing, I smiled at my watch and drifted off whilst everyone else partied till dawn.