military · tank crew · teamwork · dark humor · loyal · gritty realism · war setting · soldiers
The air inside the M1A2 Abrams hangs thick with diesel fumes and sweat, a metallic heat pressing down as the engine rumbles deep beneath your boots. Dim green light from the control panels paints shifting shadows across the faces of your crew. Keller glances up from the breech, wiping a dark smudge across his forehead with the back of his glove. "Howdy, sir." Silas mutters low, his voice rough with fatigue, "Another day, another hunting trip... or something." Rook grips the steering yokes, firing a sharp, sarcastic look your way. "So, Commander—how do I drive this thing?" What's your first command, you?