The first rays of dawn painted the camp in muted shades of gray, though the rising sun still hid behind the horizon. A chill hung in the air, its bite cutting through the thick coats of the soldiers scattered around the makeshift encampment. Fires burned low, casting flickering shadows on faces that were tight with determination or weariness.
Juri Stalin stood next to the T-95, his arms crossed as he surveyed the scene. The tank loomed behind him, a hulking beast of patchwork steel and sharp angles. Its crude armor, hastily bolted into place, was a far cry from the masterpiece he had envisioned, but it would have to do. The low growl of its engine idling in the early morning added an ominous undercurrent to the quiet preparations.
Viktor climbed out of the turret, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "We're not exactly blending in," he said, glancing at the soldiers around them. Many of the men had stopped what they were doing to gawk at the tank, their expressions ranging from awe to skepticism.
"That's the point," Juri replied. "Let them look. If this thing works, they'll be thanking us by the end of the day."
"If it works," Viktor muttered under his breath, though he didn't push the point further.
A group of soldiers approached, led by a lean man with a sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes. His uniform bore the markings of a commander, though he carried himself with a casual confidence that suggested he wasn't one for strict formalities.
"Stalin?" the man asked, stopping a few paces away.
Juri nodded. "That's me."
The commander extended a gloved hand. "Lieutenant Colonel Anton Volkov. I've been ordered to assign my squadron to support your… project." His eyes flicked to the T-95, his expression unreadable.
"Support how?" Juri asked, his tone even.
Volkov smirked faintly. "By keeping you alive long enough to make that thing useful. My men will flank you on foot, take care of any infantry trying to sneak up on you. You focus on taking out their heavy armor."
Juri studied Volkov for a moment before nodding. "Fair enough."
Volkov gestured to the soldiers behind him. "This is what's left of the 42nd Rifle Division. Not much, but they're damn good at what they do."
The soldiers stepped forward, each of them giving Juri and Viktor appraising looks. There were six in total, armed with a mix of rifles and machine guns. Their uniforms were worn and patched, but their eyes were sharp, their movements precise.
"We're going to need one of your men," Juri said, breaking the silence.
Volkov raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"To load the turret," Viktor interjected. "We only have two hands each, and unless you want this thing sitting uselessly while we reload, we need someone in the loader's seat."
Volkov nodded slowly, scanning his squadron. "Pavel," he said, motioning to a stocky man with a scar running down his cheek. "You're on tank duty. Hope you like small spaces."
Pavel grinned, stepping forward. "I've been in worse places."
"Good," Juri said. "Get familiar with the turret. Viktor will show you the ropes."
Pavel climbed into the tank, disappearing into the turret with Viktor following close behind. Meanwhile, Juri turned to the rest of the squadron.
"We'll be moving into position shortly," he said. "The plan is simple. We charge their line, take out their heavy armor, and disrupt their formation. Once they're scattered, your job is to keep them off us while we reposition for another strike."
Volkov nodded, his expression serious. "And what happens when you run out of ammo?"
Juri glanced at the tank, his jaw tightening. "We don't run out. Not until we've done enough damage to make a difference."
Volkov smirked faintly, folding his arms. "Confident, aren't you?"
"It's not confidence," Juri said. "It's necessity."
For the next hour, the team worked tirelessly to prepare. Pavel quickly got the hang of the turret's loading mechanism under Viktor's guidance, while the rest of the squadron repositioned the tank's makeshift armor.
Juri supervised as the men unbolted some of the scrap metal from the sides and rear of the tank, shifting it to reinforce the front. It was a crude solution, but it was better than leaving the frontlines exposed to direct fire.
"This isn't exactly standard procedure," one of the soldiers muttered as he tightened a bolt.
"Nothing about this is standard," Juri replied, tightening another bolt himself. "If you don't like it, feel free to walk back to HQ and let Makarov know."
The soldier snorted but didn't argue further.
Inside the tank, Viktor and Pavel worked together to inspect the turret's mechanisms, ensuring they were ready for action. The shells sat in their compartments, a mix of experimental designs and standard ordnance. Each one carried its own risk—Juri's experiments weren't always predictable—but they didn't have the luxury of being choosy.
"How's it looking?" Juri called into the tank.
"Good enough," Viktor replied, popping his head out of the hatch. "The loading mechanism's working, and Pavel knows what he's doing. The ammo… well, let's just say I hope your 'experiments' don't blow us up."
"They won't," Juri said, though his voice carried a hint of irritation. "I've tested every one of those shells."
Viktor raised an eyebrow. "You tested them in combat?"
Juri didn't answer, turning back to the front of the tank.
As the preparations continued, the tension in the camp grew heavier. Soldiers moved quickly, their voices hushed as they shared whispered predictions about the coming battle. The air seemed to hum with anticipation, a collective awareness that the sun would rise soon—and with it, the enemy.
By the time everything was ready, the tank looked slightly more formidable. The front was reinforced with an extra layer of scrap metal, though the sides and rear were still woefully underprotected. The engine growled faintly as Juri ran a systems check, ensuring everything was operational.
Viktor climbed out of the turret, stretching his arms and looking around. "You know," he said, leaning against the hull, "this might be the craziest thing we've ever done. And that's saying something."
"You can thank Makarov for that," Juri replied, his tone dry.
Viktor smirked faintly. "You think he'll take the credit if we win?"
"Of course he will," Juri said. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is stopping the Germans before they overrun the front."
Viktor nodded, his expression sobering. He glanced at the horizon, where the faintest hint of light was beginning to appear. "Won't be long now."
Juri nodded, climbing onto the tank's hull and addressing the squadron. "Get into position," he said. "Stay close, but not too close. If this thing takes a direct hit, you don't want to be standing next to it."
The soldiers nodded, grabbing their weapons and moving into formation. Volkov approached Juri, his expression serious.
"Once this starts, there's no turning back," he said. "Are you ready for that?"
Juri met his gaze. "I've been ready for a long time."
The minutes ticked by, the camp falling eerily silent as everyone took their positions. The T-95 sat at the narrow pass, its massive barrel pointed toward the open field beyond. The squadron took cover behind rocks and makeshift barricades, their weapons at the ready.
Inside the tank, Juri sat in the driver's seat, his hands steady on the controls. Viktor was in the commander's position, peering through the periscope, while Pavel sat ready at the loader's seat. The faint hum of the engine filled the cramped space, a constant reminder of the machine's raw power.
"They'll be here soon," Viktor said, his voice low.
"How can you tell?" Juri asked.
"Because I can hear them."
Juri frowned, listening carefully. At first, there was nothing but the soft rumble of the engine. But then, faintly, he heard it—a distant clatter, like the sound of machinery grinding against itself.
"They're closer than I thought," Viktor muttered, peering through the periscope again. "And… damn it. They've sent their main force here."
Juri's heart sank, though his face betrayed no emotion. He had expected a flanking maneuver or a diversion, but this was something else entirely. The Germans were bringing their full strength to the narrow pass, banking on a decisive breakthrough.
"This just got a lot harder," Viktor said.
Juri tightened his grip on the controls. "Good. That means they'll be in range."
As the sound of the approaching enemy grew louder, Juri took a deep breath, his mind clearing. The sun was beginning to rise, and the battle was about to begin.