Stiletto [Tankiverse Fanfic]

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

Stiletto

Fanfic in the Tankiverse by Hippin_in_Hawaii

 
A faint metallic ringing sound echoed through the cabin.
 
“Yep, she shot us,” said Al.
 
“Seriously?” asked Liza. “With what?”
 
“Looks like a twelve gauge,” replied Al. “And here she goes again.”
 
The ringing sound was repeated. This was absurd, and for lack of anything more productive to say, Fred went with that. “This is absurd!”
 
Again came the faint ringing of shotgun pellets impacting the armor of their tank. “Someone’s going to have to repaint that,” remarked Al.
 
Fred studied the monitor, looking at the forward camera. Whoever she was, she was dressed to kill. Usually, you’d use that term figuratively. She was a sexy woman, and from the leather corset down to the thigh-high leather stiletto boots, with tantalizing glimpses of skin in all the right places, she clearly was presenting herself for a certain clientele. The pump-action shotgun was an unexpected accessory, though.
 
"‘It’s just a goodwill tour, Staff Sergeant,’” muttered Fred. “‘We just want them to see our presence in the streets, to assure them that the Mongs are gone, and that they are once again valued members of the Federated States. They’ve been waiting over fifty years for this, Staff Sergeant. They are going to be overjoyed! I wouldn’t be surprised if they form a parade around you, so better wear your dress uniforms.’”
 
“Is that really what he told you?” asked Liza.
 
“Yep,” grunted Fred.
 
“I guess she didn’t get the memo about joy and parades,”  noted Al.  “Woah, she’s down! Splashback, I bet. Shouldn’t be standing so close to an armored surface when you shoot it.”
 
Sure enough, she was lying on her back, one hand clenching her left thigh. The other hand had no problem pointing the shotgun at them and pulling the trigger, though.
 
“We should go out there, boss,” said Liza. “She’s hurt!”
 
“You willing to stick your head out of the hatch?” asked Fred. “Or you, Al?”
 
Their silence was answer enough, punctuated by the ring of yet another blast against their hull.
 
“We’re out of our depth here. I’m calling in the cavalry. Well, the infantry.”
 
The liberation, according to all reports, was going well. Enemy resistance to their unexpected border crossing had been minimal; several major cities had been reclaimed with little incident. This was territory that had changed hands dozens of times in the past hundred years, but this time their ancestral right and their lightning-quick assault seemed to ensure that it was returning to its rightful Leadership. The lady outside, however, seemed inclined to disagree.
 
“Greenway Alpha to Greenway India. Greenway Alpha to Greenway India. Come back. Over.”
 
After Operation Greenway, Fred had been given leeway to choose his team’s name. They did have an official designation and attachment, but within the context of their specific mission, they were free to use a reserved name. Fred’s first choice had been Whisky, of course, but such a prime name had been long since claimed. In a flash of deadline-inspired uncreative panic, he’d gone with the name of the mission that had brought them all together: Greenway.
 
“This is Greenway India Actual. Over.”
 
“Georgina, it’s Fred. We need some help. Over.”
 
“Roger. What’s the situation? Over.”
 
This was going to be tricky. By default his communications would be recorded and listened to by his higher-ups. Explaining the situation clearly would, at best, open him up to company-wide ridicule. At worst, it could result in a direct order to terminate the hostile.
 
“We’re at the corner of West Third and Prominent. Believe communications may be compromised; recommend you surveil and assess. Over.”
 
Ok, that was the best he could do.
 
“Rolling the dice with her, aren’t you?” asked Al with his eerily prescient ability to know Fred’s thoughts.
 
Rolling the dice. Yes, that he was. He didn’t know Georgina well, but she had played along at the Hederson Distillery without batting an eye. And she could really hold her whisky. He hoped that was enough. If Georgina went by the book, an active hostile was to be eliminated. She’d snipe Leather from cover. If she were humanitarian enough to spare this lady’s life, but not team player enough to fudge the difference between rules and morality, her report could be a black mark on Fred’s record. But if she were the type of person Fred desperately wanted her to be, Leather would walk (ok, limp) away alive, and no one up the chain of command would ever know there had been an incident.
 
“Holy ****!” exclaimed Liza.
 
Fred wrenched his attention back to his monitor. Leather had worked herself into a sitting position, but was now pointing her shotgun away from their tank, across the street to where Georgina had appeared standing in an alley.
 
“Liza, traverse left and down. Point that muzzle directly at the Leather’s head. Load flechette.”
 
“Leather?” asked Liza, already moving to comply. “Is that really what we’re going with?”
 
The moving turret, and its stopping point, certainly caught Leather’s attention. Fred could see Georgina’s hands moving in a calming fashion.
 
“Dammit, what’s she saying?”
 
It was several minutes before Leather stopped dividing her attention between Georgina and the tank; and an eternity before she slightly lowered the muzzle of her shotgun. Fred was pretty sure he’d been holding his breath for the entire duration; he heard massive exhalations of relief from both Al and Liza and knew he hadn’t been alone.
 
Slowly, patiently, non threateningly, Georgina crossed the meters separating her and Leather. Fred realized that Georgina had placed herself far enough away that a shotgun blast probably wouldn’t have even dented her body armor. Had Leather been so foolish as to pull the trigger, she wouldn’t have lived long enough for a second shot; doubtless several of Georgie’s Dozen were concealed nearby with rifles trained. And, of course, there was Fred’s tank.
 
Georgina reached Leather, knelt down to inspect her wound, then called out over her shoulder. A soldier with a medic’s armband appeared from nowhere and trotted over. The two of them raised Leather to her feet, one on each side, and helped her back into the adjacent building.
 
It was then that Fred realized they were paused outside a nightclub named Stiletto.

 

Mahalo (thank you) for reading; I hope you enjoyed! This story is part of a series. Information on the series, and links to the other stories, can be found here.

[tweezers 1,034]

Approved.

 

As always, lovely! 

[GrandExecutioner 1,403]

Great work once again!

[LOLKILLERTOTHEDEATH 1,921]

Loved it!

[Destrod 2,634]

Just read it. Amazing work as usual Hippin!