>>42030094
Captain Kelly smiles. “Oh, don’t worry, Private! The Supply Officers don’t bite! You can ask our little Polanian, Bohater!”

Doc raises a finger. “Skip. Bohater came back last week with bitemarks.” You blink, pausing in step a bit. Bitemarks?

“Oh, pishposh, that’s just Bohater being Bohater,” says Captain Kelly. She pats you on the head reassuringly. “Do not worry, Private. The Supply Officers are very nice people to work with, and even then you will still accompany us on the occasional long mission or operation.” You smile happily. Oh, that’s a relief!

You make it to the offices, partially built into the side of the hangar. Captain Kelly opens the door, to reveal a severely trashed office covered in papers, spent ink cartridges for typewriters, empty bottles of cola, and discarded MRE packages. Sweet mother of mercy on a DUKW, this place is a mess! Everything is a mess!

And somehow, the supply officers are working through it. Specifically, a man wearing a smart frame of glasses behind his own desk and two… witches working desks too? You poke Captain Kelly. “You didn’t tell me there were others witches here too.”

“Oh, them,” says Captain Kelly. “They’re the suppliers for the other Tank Witch squadrons here on base.” She clicks her heels. “Right!”

…

She clicks her heels again, clearing her throat. The man looks up. “Oh, hey, Captain.”

Captain Kelly frowns a little. “Hey, Captain?” she says.

“Sorry for the informality, we’ve been busy tallying up the damages from yesterday,” he says. He looks over at you. “This our new guy?” Captain Kelly folds her arms, pouting a bit. “Ugh.” He stands up, saluting. “Ma’am.”

Captain Kelly smiles happily, saluting him. “Jolly good.” She sharply drops her hand to her side, allowing the man to sit down. “Private, this is the Tank Witch squadrons’ chief supply officer, Lieutenant Leopold den Dekker.”

You salute, and he simply waves you off and goes back to his typewriter. “Hey.”

[2/4]

>>42030119
[3/3]

“Lieutenant, I trust you will take care of our good little woman of the hour here, show her the ropes, and hopefully she will become an excellent Tank Witch under your watch, yes?”

He continues typing, the clicking and clacking infinitely familiar to you. She clears her throat, and he looks up again. “Oh, yeah, yeah.”

“Good!” Captain Kelly wraps her arm around you, smiling. “Private. If you need anything, my Office is in Hangar 17 as usual, feel free to come by any time. You are a member of my squadron regardless of the official dispatches, yes?” You grin, and watch Jeb, Doc, then finally Captain Kelly leave you here in the supply offices.

Hehehe! A Tank Witch!

But fuck, this place is a mess, goddamn, you can hardly think in here. Lieutenant den Dekker looks up at you. “Listen, I’m kind of busy. I’ll show you around later so just uh… stay in sight, okay, Kid?”

Stay in sight. Fine, easy enough. It’s not like you can fall and then suddenly drown in all this trash, good God.

> Sit next to Lieutenant den Dekker. The work he’s doing is important, might as well shadow him and learn.
> Introduce yourself to that one Witch on a typewriter near the window. Looks like she’s Britannian, and she’s even got her floppy dog ears, as if she were in a Striker! She must be dedicated.
> That other Witch has a surprisingly clean workspace marked off with tape. But she appears to be sleeping, maybe you should wake her.
> Clean this place up! You swear you saw something moving and it wasn’t a rat.
> Other

>>42030137
> Introduce yourself to that one Witch on a typewriter near the window. Looks like she’s Britannian, and she’s even got her floppy dog ears, as if she were in a Striker! She must be dedicated

>>42030137
> Introduce yourself to that one Witch on a typewriter near the window. Looks like she’s Britannian, and she’s even got her floppy dog ears, as if she were in a Striker! She must be dedicated.
Better make ourselves known!

>>42030137
>That other Witch has a surprisingly clean workspace marked off with tape. But she appears to be sleeping, maybe you should wake her.

File: 1439630605861.png (177 KB, 385x391)

177 KB PNG

>>42030137
>> That other Witch has a surprisingly clean workspace marked off with tape. But she appears to be sleeping, maybe you should wake her.

What in God's name are you doing back here, Schteel?

> Introduce yourself to that one Witch on a typewriter near the window. Looks like she’s Britannian, and she’s even got her floppy dog ears, as if she were in a Striker! She must be dedicated.

>>42030137
> Clean this place up! You swear you saw something moving and it wasn’t a rat.

>>42030137
>Clean this place up! You swear you saw something moving and it wasn’t a rat.

> Introduce yourself to that one Witch on a typewriter near the window. Looks like she’s Britannian, and she’s even got her floppy dog ears, as if she were in a Striker! She must be dedicated.

You carefully tiptoe your way through the garbage heap and- “Ah!” You stand on one leg, yelping. Something flitted past your leg! Ugh! You shake your head and storm over to the Britannian girl. “Excuse me!” She looks up at you, blinking with those green eyes of hers. “I am Private First Class-“

“Oh, I know ye!” She snaps her fingers. She does not sound Britannian at all. More… northern, maybe? “You’re yesterday’s hero! The big bomb thrower, one who went and fecking tossed a real monster of a shell down a supercarrier’s throat! Saved the entire Corps’ base here in little Orussia!” She offers her hand, smiling. “Corporal Jane Thornycroft! Royal Marines!”

What. “R- Royal Marines? Hang on! What are you doing here!?”

She shrugs. “Well… lotsa feckin’ reasons, hehehe, I ain’t keen to talk about them, BUT!” She snaps her fingers, giving a fangy grin to you. “I tell ya what, why are you here in the Supply lines?”

“Oh.” You cross your arms, glancing away. “Well, truthfully, my shields aren’t up to par. In fact, I might as well not have shields at all, I’m just… basically a normal girl with witch powers.”

“Ah, I see, I see,” she says. “Okay, I can understand your situation, kiddo. Have a seat!” You look around, then quickly pull up a chair. “Right now, I’m just compiling a list of damages to some of our armored vehicles, mostly the heavy tanks, real fecking wonder I know. But I know it can be-“

You point to her papers. “You’ve made a spelling error.” She blinks, then looks at her paper in the typewriter. “You’ve made three in fact, and you misidentified a King Tiger as an Sdkfz 181, it’s 182, plus it’s spelled Schwerer not Schverer.”

She stares at you, then looks back at the typewriter, then back at you. “Please do my job.”

> Okay.
> No.
> Other

>>42030738
> Okay.

>>42030738
Why?

>>42030738
>Other

Politely decline, but give her helpful advice on how to avoid reading fatigue and typos.

>>42030738
>>42030878
Backing. Why?

>>42030738
Backing >>42030897
Polite helpfulness.

>>42030738
>> Okay.

>>42030738
>Ok
>But you have to listen and watch and learn so you can do it yourself too

>>42030738
ONLY IF YOU MAY HELP ME CLEAN THIS PLACE UP!

“Well, why?”

“Because it fucking sucks!” She slams her head into the typewriter, smashing into two pieces. Oh good God. She picks up the two halves and tosses them into a pile of other broken typewriters. Ah. Okay. Regular thing then. “You sit there, typing and typing and typing and typing away, while your fingers turn into mush and your fingerprints get grinded into nothingness and I hate it I hate it I hate it!” She grabs the desk and lifts it over her head. Oh fuck.

“Hey!” Lieutenant den Dekker turns around, glaring at Thornycroft. “Put that desk down, we can’t afford to replace the last one you broke!”

“AAAHH!” She slams it back into place, the top of it now clear of all papers, items, and other miscellaneous artifacts. She quickly reaches into her footlocker besides her chair, then pulls out another typewriter and places it on the desk. She sighs, clasping her hands together, hissing with anger. “… okay. I’m good.” She places her hands on the table, smiling at you.

You gently scoot back. “Um. I’ll help you if it means you don’t do that again.”

“Great!” She scoots back, and lets you take the wheel as you place a paper in. “Format’s right here.” She places it beside you on the desk.

-

-

You gotta admit, Thornycroft’s angry outburst really shocked you. You didn’t think anybody had that kind of rage. Still, you guide her through proper formatting and typing you learned back in Alaska. How to keep your fingers on the home row, how to type while looking at the paper and not the keys, and most importantly how to keep in mind all the items you’re keeping track of. “… and there you go. If you’re wondering, I have a song in mind for memorizing all of the different Sonderkraftfahrzeug designation. If you want, I can teach you!”

She flips through the list you keep handy in your dufflebag. “Eh… no thanks, kiddo.” You deflate a bit. Darn it, nobody ever wants to learn the song.

[1/3]

>>42031617
[2/3]

“Nice work.” You look back up to see Lieutenant den Dekker. “You’ve done half of Thorn’s work in half the time she normally does it.” He places down a mug of coffee.

Thornycroft smiles. “Ah, thanks, Lie-“

“Not yours, her’s.” He pushes it slightly to you. “Take a break, Kid. Looks like I don’t need to show you anything, you seem to fit right in.” He smiles happily, moving back to his desk.

Thornycroft glares at you, crossing her arms as you drink your coffee. You shrug. “Hey, it could be yours if you worked harder.” Nothing like taking pride in your work.

“Pffft.” She rolls her eyes. “I used to storm beaches with the Royal Marines, I shouldn’t be doing this pencil pushing shite!”

You blink. “Speaking of which. Why is this place is so dirty?” She blinks, quirking her brow. “There’s papers and… things strewn everywhere! Do you guys not clean up after yourselves.”

“Oh this? This is just what happens after months of having to account for every different tank, every different gun, every different engine, and every different type of fuel we use.” Wow. Inefficient, that’s for sure. “Damned krauts suck up all the fuel too for their heavy tanks.” She tilts her head. “Why? Did you want to clean up?”

“Well, something brushed past my foot while I was walking here, so yes.”

She stands up. “Fine, I’ll help.” You place the mug down on the desk, then quickly start to pick up individual wads of papers while Thornycraft brings over a trash can.

And at the moment, the door opens. “Oh, hey, Bo.” You look up to see Bohater, carrying an evelope under arm. She places it on Lieutenant den Dekker’s desk. You narrow your eyes at her. She seems to notice, then squints back at you. Damn Polanian little runt, thinks she owns the place because she’s strong. “Alright, thanks.” Bohater nods, then slowly walks to the door, glaring all the way at you.

You glare all the way back at her, hissing a little.

[2/3]

>>42031637
[3/3]

Thornycroft walks over to you. “You got a problem with Bo?”

“She’s stupid,” you mumble.

“Hey, Bohater is one of the best Tank Witches on this base, she may not say much but she is quite the feisty little demon,” she says. “Reminds me of me when I was young, yeah?” You start dumping trash into the can.

Lieutenant den Dekker looks back at you two. “Hey. There’s a new shipment of high explosive ammunition that just landed.” Thornycraft smiles, standing straight. “Not you.” He points to you. “The kid.” Thornycraft looks at you, angrily.

> “Eh, I’m kinda tired. Maybe she could help?”
> “Okay.”
> “What about the other witch? Can’t she do it?”
> Other

>>42031664
> “Okay.”
Better not talk back.

>>42031664
> “Okay.”
No point in arguing, man.

>>42031664
>> “Eh, I’m kinda tired. Maybe she could help?”

>>42031664
>“Okay.”

>>42031664
> “Okay.”

Russian tank girls follows orders? As is wish of mother Russia?

>>42031664
> “What about the other witch? Can’t she do it?”

>>42031664
> “Eh, I’m kinda tired. Maybe she could help?”
Git some help!

>>42031664
>“Okay.”

> “Okay.”

You nod, walking up to den Dekker as he writes down the directions. “Right, ship it to Hangar 4, that’ll be the heavy artillery, most of which you saved yesterday.” He hands off the slip of paper to you. “There will be at least 200 rounds of 105mm ammunition and 200 rounds of 152mm ammunition. Got all that?” You nod. “Good, good. Counting on you.”

You look over at Thornycroft, who does not appear to be happy at being left behind. “Well, see you, Thornycroft. I’ll be back later.” She grunts, crossing her arms and glancing away. Well. Rude. You march out the door to claim your Striker Unit.

-

-

“200 for 200,” says the supply worker at the dock. “105mm and 152mm, all there in the crates. Don’t worry, Liberion’s got a wet stowage thing going on, so they won’t explode if Roy were to hit ‘em, yeah?” The crates indeed look especially strong and thick. You wouldn’t put it past Liberion to have safety be paramount to the artillery workers. “Sign here.” You quickly sign off his clipboard. “Good, good… Have a nice day.” You salute him, and he salutes you. Hangar 4 now, you attach the crates via hook and chain and start dragging their wheeled dollies off back to the hangars.

You gotta admit. All these hangars look the same.

As you’re wheeling down the runway, you watch as the damages from yesterday’s battle get cleaned up. Knocked out tanks are carted away to be salvaged, messed up sections of the runway are paved over again, and holes in the hangar are patched over with sheet metal and tarps.

[1/2]

>>42032748
[2/2]

You have to admit, becoming part of the 1st Joint Armored Corps must be like a dream. It is the first international effort to combine armored doctrines under the watchful guises of Heinz Guderian and George Patton. Tanks of all kinds of pooled into this corps, from the indomitable Tiger tank and its big brother the King Tiger and its even bigger brother the Jagdtiger, to the Liberion M4 Sherman and Stuarts, and the Britannian Cromwells and Churchills and Crusader tanks. All of them crewed by only the most elite crews, veterans of many past conflicts with the Neuroi, who are just killing for the chance to take their revenge for many fallen comrades.

You sigh, it must be great getting to work inside of a tank! Sure, it’ll be dirty and sweaty and stinky but the camaraderie, the teamwork to make a fine war machine go! Oh, such romance, such bravery, such-

“Hey.” You blink, looking to see Rosemary, one of the 1st Tank Witch Squadron witches. A Karlslander operating the new StuG III G Striker that you delivered yesterday. “Do you need help?”

“What?” You never need help.

She points behind you, and you look to see-

Oh. One of your crates is stuck in a pothole. That would explain why you’ve been daydreaming for so long, you’re stuck.

> “Sure. Yeah.”
> “No thanks, I’m good.”
> Other

>>42032768
> “Sure. Yeah.”

>>42032768
>“Sure. Yeah.”

>>42032768
>> “Sure. Yeah.”

>>42032768
> “Sure. Yeah.”

I actually gotta take a pause right here. Keep it alive for me, anons.

>>42032768
> “Sure. Yeah.”
Bestmary coming through

>>42032913
No problem Schteel

>>42032768
>“Sure. Yeah.”

>>42032913

Hey GS, did you get a chance to look at that dice system I posted up? It should be in the chatlog for GUMG.

>>42032768
> “Sure. Yeah.”

Back, writing.

> “Sure. Yeah.”

You nod. “Yes, that’d be so nice of you.” She nods, wheeling over, then picking up the end of the crate. This allows you to accelerate out of it and drive out. “Thank you!” you call.

She nods, walking alongside you. “I gotta say, that’s one big Striker you’re working. Is it a Pershing?”

“Yeah, it’s one of the experimental models they pulled from the line, I guess they were testing it’s utility as a prime mover.” You lean over. “Honestly, it moves, just not fast.” She smiles, nodding understandably. “Enjoying your new Striker?”

“It’s better than my old model,” says Rosemary. “I mean, I love the stubby gun, but it hits like a grapefruit. It’s nice having a high velocity gun now, I managed to rack up a couple of kills yesterday.” She points to you. “All thanks to you, kid.”

You grin. “Thanks! So, when do you think next time I get to go to combat is?”

“Well, right now we’re just recovering from the attack. Trying to figure out how a Supercarrier got this far into our lines,” says Rosemary. “It’s not often you see Neuroi pull something like that, especially with something as big as a Supercarrier. The salvaging Hive we’re fighting is getting smarter.”

“That can’t be right! Back home, they were saying we had the Neuroi on the run.”

“We do, that doesn’t mean they don’t fight back.” She notices your sullen expression at that, and then quickly adds on. “But that doesn’t mean we lose a lot. I mean… yeah, come on, I don’t mean any offense, kid. I’m just telling the truth.”

“Right.” You nod. Hangar 4, here you are. You push the crates in, and hand off the delivery ticket to the sergeant waiting for the ammo. “So… Rosemary, right?” She nods. “It’s nice meeting you.”

“Good to meet you too.” She pats the side of your Pershing. “Tell you what. How about I treat you to lunch? You can bring some friends if you want.”

> “Sure, let’s go!”
> “Sure, lemme go get Thornycroft.”
> “No thanks, there’s more work for me to do.”
> Other

>>42034605
>“Sure, lemme go get Thornycroft.”

>>42034605
> “Sure, lemme go get Thornycroft.”

>>42034605
> “Sure, let’s go!”

>>42034605
>> “Sure, lemme go get Thornycroft.”

>>42034605
> “Sure, lemme go get Thornycroft.”

> “Sure, lemme go get Thornycroft.”

-

-

You poke your head into the Supply Office. “Lieutenant.” He looks up from his typewriter, sipping on a cup of coffee. “I’m going to have lunch with Rosemary from the 1st Squadron?” He nods. “Do you mind if I take Thornycroft along?”

He looks back, and you both look to see Thornycroft hunting and pecking the keys on her typewriter as she carefully tries to remember everything you taught her. “Hey, Thorn!” yells den Dekker. This shocks her, enough to make her tap out of rhythm.

“Fuck me, den Dekker I spelled something wrong!” she screams.

“You can do it again later, you want to go lunch with the Kid or not?” he asks.

She blinks, and then grins. “Do you mind if I take Rascal along too?” Who? She nods over to the apparently still sleeping girl on her desk. Oh her. “It’s been a while since me and her did stuff together and I figured, why not?”

“Fine,” says den Dekker. “Take ‘em for all I care. Just get back here by about six,” he orders.

-

-

Rascal, or Rosetta Abascal, was a very interesting witch to be around on that initial walk to the Mess Hall to meet with Rosemary. She wasn’t as sleepy as you thought she’d be, even with those heavy bags under her eyes and that tired expression on her face. Nor was she was particularly nice nor particularly mean either.

No, what really made her special in her own way was the fact that kept stealing things. You watched her bump into soldiers five times on the way to the Mess and so far, she confiscated two dollars, a magazine, some string, and a spare .45 cartridge. “Hey, don’t you think you oughta return that stuff?” you say.

She mumbles. “They don’t need it anyway.”

Thornycroft nudges you with her elbow. “Not the worst stuff she’s done away. She once stole Guderian’s hat. She’s wearing it right now.” What? You look to her again, and sure enough, she’s wearing the peaked cap of a Karlslander General, tipped sideways a little bit. How the hell did she do that!?

[1/2]

>>42035781
[2/2]

You lean over, whispering to her. “So uh… what’s her story?”

“I’d tell ya if I knew, keen?” she says. Hmph. Well, Rascal, if- She holds up a notebook, flipping through the pages.

“Hey!” You swipe the notebook back. “That’s mine!” You clutch it.

“Why do you carry it around with you?” she asks. “All it has is scores on baseball games.”

“It’s MY scorebook,” you hiss. “And you can’t have it!” You shove it back down your pocket. “You understand?”

She nods, holding up your scorebook. “Yeah.”

“WHAT THE-“

“Settle down.” Thornycroft gets between you two, and she quickly hands you back your scorebook. “She doesn’t mean any harm, to both of ye, alright?” You and Rascal look the opposite way, grimacing. “Ugh, great.”

Finally, you meet with Rosemary outside of the Mess Hall. “Hey. You bring your friends?” She looks down at Rascal, then her eyebrows drop a little. “Oh. Rascal. Nice to see you again.” She opens the door. “After you.” Thornycroft then Rascal step in. Rosemary stops you. “I’d be careful, Rascal steals any trousers she really likes the look of.”

You look down at your skirt. “Well, she hasn’t seen mine.”

“Good.” She pats your back. “So. I noticed you’re a little eager to get into combat.” The both of you walk into the bustling Mess Hall. You’ve already lost track of Rascal and Thornycroft. “Why’s that?”

> “Because I love it.”
> “Because it’s my responsibility.”
> “I don’t know.”
> Other

>>42035810
> "Because I need to prove myself!"

>>42035810
>“Because it’s my responsibility.”
Kid really believes the recruitment posters.

>>42035810
> “Because it’s my responsibility.”

>>42035810
>>42035892
I'll support!

>>42035810
>> “Because I love it.”
She did say that the loved the excitement.

>>42035810
> “Because it’s my responsibility.”
> "Because I need to prove myself!"

It's probably not a good idea to make our new friends think we're a bloodthirsty psychopath.

>>42036085
Well you never know anon, maybe they are bloodthirsty psychopaths and will be happy to meet another!d

you check out that Godlike PDF yet GS?

>>42036131
Been skimming it from time to time.

384 pages is nothing to shake a stick at.

>>42036120
Rosemary is a good girl, Thornycroft thirsts only for the blood of typewriters and Rascal is a non-violent offender.

>>42036192
Tankery changes you anon. Once you may have been right but now they're as thirsty as vampires!

> “Because it’s my responsibility.”

You managed to get your lunches, some unspecific gruel with an unspecific liquid that looks like water. You sit down at a table where Rascal and Thornycroft are already stuffing their faces. “For one thing, Rosemary, it’s my responsibility! People are fighting, giving their lives, everything for the cause of humanity! And who would I be if I were to just sit on the sidelines and watch it all happen? That isn’t how I was raised no sir!”

Rosemary nods, spooning in a bit of gruel. “I can see that.”

“Yeah, it’s only a bonus that I like being part of it too,” you say quickly.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Rosemary nods, then her eyes widen. “Bohater! Come sit with us.” Ah no. Bohater nods, plopping down in Rosemary’s lap and beginning to eat her meal peacefully, glaring at you the whole way. Thornycroft and Rascal giggle, apparently noticing this. “So, you and Bohater getting along good?”

“You could say that,” you say.

Bohater continues to squint her eyes at you, her eyebrows low, her nose flaring a bit as she licks her spoon clean of gruel. “Well, Bohater honestly doesn’t take too kindly to strangers, so she can be a bit of a handful.” Rosemary pets her on the head. “But she’s always there for you in a pinch!”

“I’m sure.” You lean forward, continuing to stare her down.

“I know!” Rosemary points to your hair, black, a little messy down past your shoulders. “Why don’t you let Bohater style your hair a bit?” What? “She’s been practicing on me.” Rosemary turns her head to reveal a nice single braid ponytail. Huh, you almost didn’t notice that. “It’d be harmless.”

> “Nah, I like to style my own hair.”
> “Sure, it’s harmless, isn’t it?”
> “If you let me do her hair first.”
> Other

>>42036936
> “Sure, it’s harmless, isn’t it?”
Nothing could go wrong.

>>42036936
> Other
"No."

She's just going to mess it up.

>>42036936
> “Nah, I like to style my own hair.”

>>42036936
> “If you let me do her hair first.”
Night GS!

>>42036936
> “Sure, it’s harmless, isn’t it?”

>>42036936
>“If you let me do her hair first.”

>>42036936
>“Sure, it’s harmless, isn’t it?”

>>42037214
>>42037159
>>42037149
You do realize that she hates our guts and will mess our hair up?

>>42037248
Nonsense anon, she's just a bit antisocial is all.

>>42037257
Right. Sure. Well. I warned you.

>>42037248
Are you perhaps saying that our little rivalry may escalate into full blown prank warfare? Say it ain't so anon. Why, no-one would ever want to see such a thing, no siree.

>>42036160
Its weird because every big ORE game (well Wild Talents and Reign) got essential editions, which are cheaper and basically cuts out the fluff, so like 100 pages just up and gone but godlike didn't for some reason.

>>42037294
You are Bohater levels of dumb and I don't like you.

> “Sure, it’s harmless, isn’t it?”

Bohater immediately switches over to your side and grabs your hair once you say that. Oh great. She pulls out a hairbrush and starts combing your hair down. Oh! That’s… surprisingly pleasant! Okay! Rosemary smiles at Bohater. “Try not to do anything silly.”

Thornycroft leans over. “Can she do my hair next?” She brushes her own hair back, smiling. Rascal rolls her eyes, continuing to mash more food into her mouth.

After about ten minutes of eating, she finally finishes out your hair. You’re given a mirror to see the results. Bangs swept to the side over your forehead, a singlebraided ponytail over your shoulder. Hm. This looks nice!

… there’s a catch though, isn’t there. “What’s your angle?” you ask. She shrugs, motioning to Rosemary.

Rosemary smiles happily. “Bohater’s not going to mess with your hair. Just as long as you don’t mess with hers.” Fair enough. “Really, the two of you ought to get along! I think you two would make an excellent pair in combat, heavy Striker like yours, Kid, combined with Bohater’s Firefly, that would be an amazing duo.” Bohater frowns a little, looking at Rosemary. “Well, second best duo compared to me and you.” She sits down in Rosemary’s lap again, crossing her arms.

“Well, that’s if I ever get to combat,” you say.

“And you just might!” You all turn around to see Burnie, coming in with a flamethrower strapped on and ready. “Kid.” She slaps your shoulder, grinning. “You’re gonna join us on a short recon trip.”

Thornycroft stands up. “Can we come too?!” Rascal as well stands up, excited for the prospect.

“Eh…” Burnie frowns a little, not sure what to say. “Skip says only our supply guy.” Thorn and Rascal frown deeply, grumbling.

> “Sorry, girls.”
> “Can’t they come?”
> “I won’t go without those two.”
> Other

#RALLYTANKWITCHES

>>42037995
>“Can’t they come?”

>>42037995
> “Sorry, girls.”
Awwww

>>42037995
>“Sorry, girls.”
As much as I want to bring them along, I don't want to push our luck on the first outing.

>>42037995
> “Sorry, girls.”

>>42037995
> “Can’t they come?”

>>42037995
>> “Sorry, girls.”

I am intrigued by how Thorn ended up in supply, I can see it being a punishment detail for Rascal but I do wonder what her story is.

>>42037995
>“Sorry, girls.”

So this occurs while Rookie is flying home and meeting Neuroi girl?

>>42038998
Was Kid in the other quest?

Lastly,
>I had to fight off the Royal Farawayland Artillery, they really wanted you.”

Haha, Kid as a Canadian artillery girl.

>>42039090
Nope.

> “Sorry, girls.”

You look over at them. You have to sympathize with them after all, you were like them before you got to be here. “Sorry, girls.” Thorn crosses her arms, grumbling while Rascal sits down, furiously eating now. “Maybe next time.”

Thorn scoffs. “That’s what they always say.” She sits back down, going back to eating angrily.

Rosemary and Bohater stand up, then motion you out of the Mess Hall with Burnie. “So what’s the situation?” asks Rosemary.

Burnie shrugs. “The Ice Queen herself-“ Probably referring to Colonel Hessler “-wants us to scout north where the Supercarrier came in from. She’s attaching a squadron of Pumas to help scour the area too and hopefully, what we’re looking for is some sort of cluster where the Neuroi may have made a base that we aren’t aware of.”

“I see,” says Rosemary. “Any reason they can’t send us an Air Witch squadron our way?” You can see her eyes light up briefly. “What about the 509th?”

“509th’s on rest since the Bulge,” says Burnie. “They’s supposed to come back in the next couple of weeks but right now, all we’ve got is the VVS. 7th’s out in Soumus so they’re no help, 8th’s already attached to another theatre too. So… yeah, we’re stuck without our highflying sisters.”

“Great.” Rosemary looks a little saddened by that, not angered it seems by the lack of adequate air support. “So us, the new Kid, and several Pumas, that’s it?”

“We’re not trying to burn anything down,” says Burnie as you exit the Mess Hall and move onto Hangar 17. “… unfortunately.” She pats your arm. “Listen, Kid, this ain’t gonna be like the battle yesterday. We’re actually trying to avoid combat I’m afraid. We go in, see what’s what, move out again.”

“And if they attack us?” you ask.

[1/2]

>>42039405
[2/2]

You try to remember some of those films. You thought the Neuroi alien, weird, strange, and everything else. Salvaging your constructions? Now that was just plain strange. “So… what kind of stuff do they salvage?”

“We’ve been attacked by a lot of tankbuster Stukas upgraded with the lasers instead of the 37s,” says Burnie. “Along with IL-2s dumping clusterbombs on us, Doc actually took quite the beating a month ago from a squadron of salvaged Airacobras. No penetrating hits but a lot of damage to her clothes.” She smirks. “Jeb certainly liked that.”

“I didn’t,” says Rosemary. “This Hive knows our weakness. We can’t fight things attacking us from the sky like the Air Witches can. And they expect us to just cope with it?”

As you arrive to Hangar 17, Burnie places her hand on Rosemary’s shoulder. “Rosie, we’re Witches, this is what we do. We take a beating, we give a beating back twiceover. We’re gonna kick them right where they live one day, and when that day comes, you’ll say, ‘damn, Burnie was right! I really should’ve listened to her! And she’s got a great body…!’” You, Rosemary, and Bohater stare at her. “… well, I do.”

You raise a finger. “Hold on.” The three of them look at you. “I mean, I’m not going to be carrying 240 shells all the time like uh, hehehe…” They continue to look at you. “Do I get any way to defend myself?” Rosemary and Bohater look at Burnie.

And to which Burnie simply wraps her arm around you and pulls you tight. “You got me, Kid!”

“… I’d actually like a gun or something.” Burnie huffs, then lets go of you and walks over to a gun crate. She bends over. “I used to use this back when they told me not to be a flame tank because it was too dangerous.” She lobs it to you. You nearly avoid dropping it, and find yourself admiring the weight and caliber of it. “It’s all yours.”

An M1921 Thompson Submachine Gun with 100 round drum magazine!

Now this is a Typewriter you can get used to!

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>>42039435
That's it for tonight. I know I said I'd only run this again if the Nats made it to the Pennant but here we are. I might make this a regular thing, we'll see.

#RALLYTANKWITCHES

Follow at: https://twitter.com/GermanSchteel

See you some time soon, haven't fully figured out a new schedule yet.

>>42039481
Thanks for the thread!

Clearly tonk witch magic makes the good baseball happen.

>>42039481
Thanks for running, boss.

>>42039481

See you next time, GS!

We should make it up to Thorn and Rascal somehow, and not just by making them actually do their work correctly and stop living like terrible slobs.

>>42039481

Thanks for the fun, boss.

Is anyone archiving this quest?