What was a majestic view for spectators was a time of thrill and anxiety for the tankers. Time was ticking, tanks were humming as they moved, and a railgun was loading its fire. Somewhere in the map, a Hornet carrying a blue flag moved swiftly, empowered by a speed boost. A Wasp anticipated a jump and fired a golden ray of light. What happened next was an incredible jump of the Hornet, letting only its dust get eaten by the railgun. <migigs>

The tanks move in desperation. A tank holds the flag for his nation. A tank sprays a heat of devastation. A tank aims for self-satisfaction. A tank hurries amid exhaustion. A tank fires particles that look like punctuation. Each tank has their own mission. This poem describes that imaginary vision.