[b]Novosibirsk, Russia[/b]

The guttural rumble of diesel engines purred in the April afternoon. Melting snow that blanketed the ground pooled in the middle of the yard, soaking into the grass to form a thick mud. In the distance, the dull gray high-rises of Novosibirsk loomed over the naked trees and warming Siberian landscape under a clear sky.

Accompanying the purr of heavy engines, over head planes flew west-ward. Large wings of propellers cutting west. From their wings the markings of China or Russia flew on the side, faint from the distance. And as they flew over head a young man sloshed through the snow muck, a heavy coat wrapped around him as he staggered for balance. The thick grime that was clay sucked down on his feet as he slipped through the cold earth passed the woken metal beasts that were tanks.

The young man looked on at the grumbling iron coffins. His pale round face bent up in frustration and anxiety as he wound through the crews bustling between points; loading in their mission's allowance of shells. His coat's sleeve embroidered with the red star of China, an already muddied assault rifle – the CP1960 – slung over his shoulder. A knit cap hid his short hair and a heavy back pack wore down on his wide shoulders. He staggered through, keeled over like a troll as he pulled his weight through the thick stirred up mud.

“Have you fucking seen this shit!” a man bellowed over the engines. Three boxes worth of ammunition cradled in his arms as he sludge through the mud. His legs had become so caked with dirt they were a solid brown, and much of it had already splashed up to his tank top, “How the fuck do they expect us to start moving out in this?”

“Excuse me, comrade!” the young soldier yelled out. The man carrying the ammo stopped and shot the newcomer with a sharp angry look.

“What?” he glowered sourly, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I'm looking to the Q-41I crew...” the soldier started hesitantly, “Where are they set up?”

Scowling the man swore under his breath. “Juunshi, sir,” he started, turning to a coated man atop the block- built turret of a nearby tank. The officer turned around, looking down with a glazed indifferent expression, “Where's the Q-41I crew at?”

“Sun Song's tiger?” the sergeant asked.

“I suppose so, we got a wet dog looking for him.” the soldier grumbled, nodding his hand to the anxious young soldier.

The officer looked down on his, his eyes lit up with realization as he gazed down on him. “So we do.” he muttered, “Juunshi Sun Song is in the front most row.” he yelled down, “You're in the fifth row back.”

“Front most row...” the young soldier muttered under his breath, barely audible to himself over the song of purring motors. Then it dawned on him and his face went pale. His expression went numb. The crewman and his commander must have noticed, the sound of their laughing was audible over the monsters they had tamed.

“You get to see the action before us!” roared the sergeant, “What's your name?”

“Li Tsung, sir.” he replied with a distant gaze.

“I'll be sure to remember it.” the sergeant laughed.

“And be sure to put a boot through Tse Lin's cunt when we're done.” the crewman barked with a grin, “Bitch owes this crew a few confirmed hits on something at least. We fucking know she stole our HE rounds last week!”

Tsung felt lost as he turned from the snickering crew as he passed between them and their neighbor's treads. His head felt light, and the knowledge he was up front loomed over him heavily. It made each rise and fall of his feet heavier. He had heard the rumors things were beginning again, but that he wouldn't be up and front in it. His eyes turned up to the distance were he gazed ahead through the ranks of idling tanks.

Tsung wound his way through the rows, stepping out into the midst of the first ranks. Off in the distance no doubt stood the Republic. Aircraft over-head still bellowed out to it. Tsung stared emptily in that direction, knowing what was to come. His head still felt lost and cloudy. The revelation of action now, or the next day had hit him with the weight of a fully loaded crate of bricks. It still left a bruise.

“Comrade!” a voice shouted out, breaking Tsung from his daze, “Are you lost?”

Tsung turned stiffly in the muddied snow to come face-to-face with another officer. He loomed over him by a full head. His full coat and the single echelon on his shoulder showed him to be an officer. Deep set, dark eyes looked down on Tsung. He frowned unappealingly at him as he drew from a worn and well-smoked cigarette.

“Are you lost, comrade?” he asked again, “You looked confused.”

“Oh. Oh!” Tsung jumped, coming back to Earth, “I'm looking for Sun Song. Q-41I?”

“You look at him.” the officer smirked, “Li Tsung then?”

“Y-yeah...” he stammered.

“Excellent!” he laughed, clapping and smiling enthusiastically around his cigarette, “I was wondering when we were going to get my new driver.”

“Y-yeah.” Tsung choked nervously. Sung put a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder as he lead him towards his vehicle. A machine that looked no different from any other machine alongside it. Down to the low-cut plow blade being fixed to its front.

“Where did your papers say you were from again?” Sung asked genially. “Changji? Read in the transfer notices I got that you were a driver in the 2nd Mongolian armored division. What brings someone like you further north?”

“I-ironically I was hoping for warmer weather.” Tsung stammered nervously, Sung's arm on his shoulder felt uncomfortable, and he hoped he'd let up when they stopped by his tank. A man sat perched on the turret, watching the two.

“Well you certainly came in when it's hot.” Sung grumbled, “I keep getting notices we'll be moving out the next day. Then we're moving the day after. We're being kept on alert, I haven't heard a quiet night now in a week.”

“So it's happening then?”

“Part two is happening!” Sung cheered, stopping as they came to the side of the tank. To Tsung's relief he lowered his hand and he climbed up on top. “So say hello to your new family.” he said with a smile, hands held out.

“And by extension the two other crews alongside of us.” a scruffy, wide built man said from the top of the turret. He looked up and down Tsung with a dead stare. Not particularly interested, “This kid's green, is he really replacing Little Brother?”

“He is.” Sung nodded, is enthusiasm died on his tongue, “But his shoes shouldn't be too big to fill.”

“Dumb ass.” the other grumbled.

“Excuse me, but what's going on?” Tsung asked nervously, uncomfortably hoisting his pack higher up.

“Your predecessor took a spill on some ice and broke his ass.” the large figure chuckled, “You're not going to break your ass, are you?”

“I-I should hope not.”

“Good enough.” he said, taking a bow from where he sat he added, “Wi Hui.” he introduced himself, “Loader.”

“Li Tsung, driver I guess.” Tsung said nervously.

“Tse Lin's around here shining her shoes.” Hui said, “Where are you!?”

“Damn it, I'm down here!” a woman's voice shot out, “What is it?”

“Come meet our new little brother.” Hui said. From the far-side of the tank a woman stood up. The hair shaved back along her head gave her an eerily masculine apperance.

She gave Tsung a look over, before smiling, “Damn, he is little!” she laughed.