#this was based off some british greentext about a tank

[inbabylontheywept]

The Vengabus is Coming

Alakan pinched the bridge of his nose. On one hand, certain death. On the other hand, human bullshit.

He weighed the options carefully. His self-respect fought tooth and claw with his will to live.

The will to live won. It was a near thing, but internal battles were winner take all.

“Fuck it. We need armor. Send them in.”

---

The radio crackled. It was a quiet sound, but still a welcome reprieve to the blisteringing swarm of beams from the nearby laser gatling. Alakan fished it out of his front pocket, raising it near his ear eagerly.

“Callsign ‘Ape-Mode’, do you copy? What is your ETA? We’re pinned down bad up here, if they can get a second angle set up we’re toast. ”

The speaker crackled again. There was a sound like a horn on the other end. Maybe an alarm?

“Callsign Ape-Mode, is your vehicle intact?”

There was no verbal response back, but a faint chanting could be heard in the background, just beyond the range of his hearing. Alakan cranked the volume knob to max, desperate for any possible information about when the armor would arrive. Instead, he seemed to catch the opening part of some kind of human war ritual.

“We like to party! We like, we like to party! We like to party! We like, we like to party! We like to party! We like-”

Then the radio cut off abruptly.

He took several deep breaths before pinching his nose again.

Fucking humans.

---

The Vengabus is coming! And everybody's jumping! New York to-

The chanting was back, almost incomprehensibly loud. The gatlings were earsplitting on their own, but the human war chant made them seem like whispers in a library. The noise was so loud that identifying the source was almost impossible. It seemed to be coming from all sides at once, a hulking wall of sound. He reached down to shut off his comm only to find it was already off.

Oh. They must be here then. That would explain the unwarranted assault on his earholes. He took a peek over the edge of his foxhole and froze.

Even by the standards of human bullshit, this was egregious.

The tank itself was standard DFP issue. The bright yellow paint job and makeshift stop sign definitely were not. And the speakers looked borderline illegal. Strands of copper wire poked from each of the generator sized boxes strapped, welded, and glued to random points all over the chassis. The conductor feeding each of the abominations seemed to be repurposed twinkle lights, cutting zigzags between each box before drawing into the hatch.

The gatlings stopped, evidently as taken aback as everyone else on the battlefield. The moment of relative peace was replaced by insane furor as every gun on the opposite side of the canyon seemed to realize that there was a big juicy target barreling towards them.

The tank took the swarm of beams like a champion. Faint clouds of yellow smoke trailed behind the racing vehicle as its makeshift paint job was incinerated, but that was probably a blessing in disguise. The wall of noise fell down several notches as one of the gatlings made a point of targeting the ear splitting speakers.

The tank had been content enough to just absorb enemy ammo as it barreled its way to the middle of the battle, but this was a personal affront. The railgun on the top of the vehicle locked on to the offending turret and began dropping ferroslugs. The first was more than enough to obliterate its hated foe, the other three were just to desecrate the memory. Each shot had the unfortunate side effect of distorting the noise coming out of the speakers, the voices going up like chipmunks with every thump of the MAC.

The wheels of steel are turning! And traffic lights are burning! So if you like to party, get on and move your body! The Vengabus is coming!

A kinetic slug slammed into the road just behind it. If the tank had been going anything less than max speed, it would’ve been splattered. Any sane tank operator would’ve launched their smoke cover, changed course, and avoided the slugs by serpentining.

These were not sane tank operators. The hatches for the smoke cover opened, but instead of smoke grenades getting flung from the hydraulic catapult, out flew hundreds and hundreds of gleaming chemlights. The laser gatling atop the main cannon opened fire, not at any enemy, but simply while spinning in circles at maximum speed.

None of this should have done a damn thing, but the effect was amazing. The lights, the noise, and now the laser effects-the enemy had been trained for what to do in a warzone, but they had no fucking idea what to do at a disco. All it took was one of them to break ranks, and the rest followed suit. Alakan watched in awe as the troop of 80 enemy combatants bolted up the far side of the valley, casually pursued by the still smoldering Venga-Tank, chipperly screaming out its war cry as the recording device on the inside hit a well planned loop.

The Vengabus is coming! The Vengabus is coming! The Vengabus is coming! The Vengabus is coming! The Vengabus is coming! The Vengabus is coming!

The noise, blessedly, faded to black as both made it over the hill.

He climbed carefully out of his foxhole, wiping the dirt from his palms onto the front of his pants when he was done. One of the newer soldiers jogged up to him, as baffled as he’d ever been.

“What… What the hell just happened?”

Alakan shrugged.

“Trust me, they don’t know either. Fucking humans.”