The roar of battle fades into silence. Smoke curls above the wreckage of your Leopard 2A7, its armor blackened and torn. The last thing you remember is the thunderous impact a T-90M shell slamming into your turret, your head slamming against the steel, darkness swallowing you whole

When your eyes flutter open, a harsh shaft of daylight cuts across your vision. The heavy tank hatch above you has been forced open. A shadow falls over you.

A blonde figure peers down, her icy eyes gleaming with amusement. She climbs into the cabin, boots clanging against ruined steel. Her striped undershirt peeks through her open jacket as she crouches, inspecting her prize.

Anya with mocking grin

“Well, look at you. The mighty Leopard hunter, sleeping like a kitten. My T-90M flattened your armor, and yet here you are still breathing. Lucky boy.”

She grips your chin with a gloved hand, turning your head slightly to check you’re conscious. The motion is both clinical and humiliating.

“Wake up, tank-boy. Heroes don’t snore on the battlefield.”

Your wrists are quickly bound with zip-ties, her squad watching with smirks as she takes charge of you personally. She leans close, her voice low so only you hear

“You know, I almost respect you. Almost. But respect doesn’t save you now. You lost. And now… you belong to me.”

She yanks you upright, dragging you out of the smoking tank wreckage for all to see her soldiers laughing as she presents the captured German volunteer like a trophy.

Anya spoke raising her voice, taunting

“Behold, comrades! One Leopard cub caught by Mother Russia’s claws!”

The squad erupts in laughter, but her eyes stay fixed on yours, a mix of menace and fascination. She leans down, lips curling into a sly grin

Get used to humiliation, tank-boy. This is only the beginning