"Loaded!"
"Hidarigawa! Hidarigawa!"
"Fucking fire!"
*CRACK-BANG*
The shell was sent flying across the town square, whistling for a few seconds before crashing into a station wagon and exploding, killing the enemy soldiers behind it and setting the building behind it on fire. On the street, with a still smoking barrel was an M4 Sherman Tank inside of it, its five occupants and the one outside cheered as the building caught fire, and enemy soldiers ran out screaming in pain.
"Fucking A!" The tank commander laughed, holding up a bottle of Whiskey before chugging it down. The gunner, driver, other gunner and loader all cheered as well as the shooter up top howled with laughter as music blared from a stereo hooked up inside. "How many more of them are there, eh?"
The Co-driver, a young darker skinned woman looked through the parascope, "Ain't none left, Ryan," She told him, "That's the last of em out that building, hehehe, fucking Norks!" She cursed with a grin, cigarette clenched in her lips as the driver next to her made the tank drive forward.
On top, a lean looking man wearing a dirtied black and red hoodie howled a cheer that echoed throughout the empty town, firing off an M4 carbine into the air. "Awoo baby! That's what happens when you fuck with us!" He pounded the tank's hull with a fist, "Don't fuck with The Forsaken. baby!" He howled again as the commander, drunk off his ass, laughed as well.
The shooter of the tank pounded the side of the tank as well, "Misute raremashita!" The teen yelled as his loader ruffled his hair. "Hahaha!"
Suddenly gunshots pounded against the side of the tank, making the man on top take cover before getting on the PKM that was welded on to the tank's top. "Norks! Left side! Left side!" He pulled the bolt back then let loose a hell fire of 7.62 caliber bullets into a post office, where several soldiers dressed in armor and donning the flag of North Korea were hiding, they fired on the tank as the side gun was fired as well from inside.
"Riley! Load up a-another shell!" The commander yelled in a somewhat drunken slur, "Toto, ge-get this thing turned around! We're running them over if we have to!" He downed his bottle of whiskey before standing up, throwing his bottle with a yell and grabbing onto a fifty cal and firing. "Eat lead ya bastards!"
Welcome to America, the year 2023 in southern Arizona. War has been on the rise for the past two decades, and all it took was one bullet... one bullet to change the lives of everyone in the world. But, now, we're focusing on the tank and its crew of six, all of them random passerby who happened to become friends and end up becoming rebel fighters against the North Korean Empire, how did that ever happen?
We'll find out...
At some point.
They were The Forsaken, a group of people who fought back against the empire. They were part of no group in particular, instead they were loners, sticking to themselves and helping out where needed in Arizona, or anywhere across the southern border near Mexico. Armed with their tank, plenty of booze and weapons, and more ammunition then it was healthy to have, they were someone to fear. North Korean forces, or Norks as the slang went around, they knew all about them. And had done as much as they could to deter the armored beast, and try to eradicate them.
Turns out a bunch of kids were too much for them to handle.
The Norks inside of the post office were torn to shreds by the guns, heads taken off and blood peppering the walls behind them as they were torn apart. Then, up ahead a Humvee decked out in Imperial markings drove up, a fifty cal gun hammering away at their tank. Both men ducked as the bullets bounced off of their heavy armor. Ryan ducked back inside and yelled, "Fire on th-that damn thing!" He made a move to go back up, but ducked back down and added as an afterthought, "Please!" He then disappeared up top, allowing his gunner to fire on the humvee with the cannon.
The humvee was no match for their firepower, and exploded when the shell impacted its armored frame. The occupents inside had no chance, in the slightest.
With another howl of victory, Ryan, the commander grabbed a bottle of rum and cracked it open. "You know the drill people, let's get ta lootin!" He burped, getting out and climbing off the tank. He tried to make a graceful jump off, but his foot was caught on something and he tumbled off, smashing face first into the ground.
Thankfully, the rum survived.
Bloodied face aside, he held it up in triumph as his friends hopped down. "I s-saved you my l-love!" He cried before sitting up and taking a swig. Up on the tank, he saw his crew climbing down.
First was his co-driver, a young dark skinned woman named Tania, originally from Jersey. She had her hair tied in a tight ponytail, wore a tank top with a tactical harness, and had two beretta pistols as her sidearms, and she also wore dark blue jeans and boots. She carried an AK-74 as her main weapon, with carbon fiber parts.
Next was the driver, Toto. A short man, and by short, he was almost childlike in size, a dwarf, or, in Ryan's words. A Hobbit. He wore torn clothing, a small vest with shotgun shells on it, and carried a remington shotgun as his main weapon.
The loader was another woman, named Riley. A girl from Rio, past the border. Possibly the youngest of the crew at sixteen, and the most dangerous. She wore simple military style clothes, olive colored fatigues and a harness. A machete was sheithed on her back, and she carried a P90 submachine gun.
The shooter was Japanese by birth, but lived most of his life in Korea, until coming to the states. His name was Han, the only member who did not speak any english,... well, he spoke some, just not enough to hold a decent conversation. The young man carried a MP5 submachine gun as his primary, and wore some protective sports gear on his shins and elbows, and a back pack.
And finally was their other gunner, possibly the most insane one. His name was Hunter, twenty one years old, and obsessed with blowing things up. He carried an M4 carbine he picked up from a police station, after breaking out he said, and eventually found his way to the tank. Liking what he saw, stuck with them. A dirted hoodie, torn jeans, combat boots and a beanie were his clothes of choice.
Ryan sat up as his friends went about looting the dead Nork bodies they killed, he struggled to stand, but instead opted to sit down and let them do their thing. He burped as his friends stripped the bodies in the post office of their guns, armor and weapons before downing more of his rum with a hazy look in his eyes. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea for a tank commander to be drunk outta his mind while commanding people to fire highly explosive rounds into other people.
He didn't give a shit honestly.
For months he's had to deal with fighting the Norks, alongside his current delusions which consisted of funny shaped elephants.
One of which was giving him a lusty look.
"Ay bu-bugger off ya pink shite." The Irish native swatted at the image, a bit of fear growing in his heart as the furry pink elephant disappeared, making him sigh in relief.
Eventually, Hunter vcame over, brandishing a modified looking M16 and a backpack. "Wanna head back?" He asked his leader with a grin
