"NOOOOOO!!!" Ivan's voice echoed through the darkness, his hands still outstretched in desperation. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the sweat that drenched his brow. His breath came in ragged gasps, as if he were drowning in the suffocating weight of despair.

"Papa... mama... I'm almost home," Ivan sobbed, his voice choked with emotion. He glanced down at his outstretched hand, still reaching out for his family, and he struck himself in frustration. After a few moments, he managed to regain some composure, though his surroundings remained shrouded in darkness.

As he attempted to rise to his feet, Ivan found himself struggling against an unseen force, his movements sluggish and disjointed. It was then that he realized he was still strapped into the seat belt of the tank. With a jolt of realization, he remembered where he was: inside the tank.

In that moment, the events of earlier came rushing back to him with startling clarity. The suicide military truck bearing down on them, the explosion that followed... Ivan's heart quickened at the memory, his mind racing with the urgency of the situation. He reached for his headset, his fingers fumbling with the controls as he desperately tried to establish contact with his crew.

"Captain! Captain! Respond!" Ivan called out, his voice tinged with urgency. "Archer? Armstrong? Is anyone there? Are you all okay?" But there was no response, only a deafening silence that seemed to mock his efforts. A sharp pain seared through his head, causing him to grit his teeth in frustration. "Arrrghhh! Damn it!"

With determination fueling his actions, Ivan reached for his rifle, his fingers closing around its familiar grip. With a swift motion, he opened the hatch and climbed out of the tank, emerging into the darkness. But as he ascended from the tank, he was bewildered to find that night had fallen, and when he surveyed his surroundings, he realized he didn't recognize the place at all.

In the dim glow of the moonlight, he saw nothing but trees stretching out around him, indicating that he was deep within the forest. But there’s a dirt road also leading to the unknown. The silence enveloped him like a heavy blanket, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. However, he pushed aside his disorientation, his priority being to locate his crew.

"Captain! Captain!" Ivan called out, rapping the hatch with the butt of his rifle. There was no response. With a sense of urgency gnawing at him, he made the decision to open the hatch himself. "Captain—"

There’s no one inside the tank. Tiger, Armstrong, and Archer were nowhere to be found. He scanned his surroundings, searching for any signs or footprints that might indicate their departure, but there was nothing to suggest that they had left the tank.

Ivan wanted to shout or call them out because they might be still nearby but he just suddenly realized that he was still probably behind enemy’s lines. With that, Ivan swiftly gets inside the tank.

Using his flashlight, he searched for any bloodstain or any damage inside but thankfully, the inside is still clean and intact.

However mysteries still pile up with his crew's disappearance.

Ivan activated the auxiliary power unit of the tank, flooding the compartment with much-needed electricity. Fingers trembling, he reached for the radio box beside him and keyed the mic.

"Blackpowder, Blackpowder, this is Red Musket, do you hear me?" Ivan's voice echoed through the static-filled air, but there was no response, only a haunting silence. Undeterred, he repeated his call, desperation creeping into his tone. "To any unit in the area, this is Red Musket of Black Powder squadron, do you copy me?"

As Ivan attempted to establish contact through the radio, he decided to check his GPS to determine his current location. However, his brow furrowed in frustration as he noticed the distortion on the monitor. The screen was glitchy, rendering the GPS function unusable.

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Despite his repeated attempts to reach out over the radio, all Ivan could hear was the crackling of static. Impatience gnawed at him as he switched between channels, hoping for a response that never came.

"HQ, HQ, I am Sgt Ivan Abrams from Romeo Echo Delta Mike, of Bravo Papa squadron. We've been ambushed before we attacked the target. I repeat, We've been ambushed! We failed to attack the tangos and I don't know where I am right now. Our GPS is not working, and Captain Grittz Wittman and other crew are missing. If someone hears this, please respond immediately!"

Silence greeted his plea, amplifying the overwhelming noise of the radio static within the confines of the tank.

Frustration boiled over as Ivan pounded on the malfunctioning radio in a futile attempt to coax it into working properly. "God damn it!"

Turning to his smartphone, Ivan disregarded the protocol that prohibited personal communication devices. Ignoring the potential consequences, he dialed the numbers, but his hopes were dashed as he found himself met with no signal, likely due to his current location in a foreign land.

Feeling utterly helpless, Ivan slumped back in his seat, staring hopelessly at his phone. "Why didn't they tell me they were leaving? Why did they leave me here all alone?" Ivan's voice trembled with emotion as tears welled in his eyes. Then, his gaze fell upon a photo taped to the captain's screen monitor.

The image depicted his crew in a pose reminiscent of movie posters: Armstrong showcasing his muscular physique, Archer adjusting his glasses with a scholarly air, and Captain Tiger standing tall and resolute in the center. Ivan himself stood in the corner, looking somewhat out of place and emotionless. Behind them was their newly mighty M1 Abrams tank.

Ivan hit himself on the cheeks with his palm and wiped away his tears. "Why am I sitting here crying like a child, when I should be finding a solution to reach my crew? Am I truly a soldier? My comrades wouldn't be pleased to see me acting like this."

He glanced over the working parts of each crew member's station and noticed that their guns were missing. A glimmer of hope sparked within him as he considered the possibility that his friends had evacuated safely. However, uncertainty still lingered, as he couldn't shake the question of why he hadn't been included in their escape plan. Nevertheless, what mattered most to him now was the possibility that they were still alive.

Suddenly, an idea flashed into Ivan's mind. Perhaps the reason he couldn't establish contact with anyone via radio was due to a lack of signal. He remembered that they had a working satellite phone stowed away in the trailer. All he needed to do was set up the antenna in a high place, like a radio dish. "Alright, it's worth a shot!" Ivan encouraged himself.

Recalling that Tiger had stored the equipment in the trailer, Ivan decided to retrieve it. As he opened the hatch, he glanced up at the sky and heard the loud flapping of wings as a flock of birds hurriedly flew southward. "Is it normal for this many birds to be flying at this hour in this country?" he wondered to himself.

Jumping down from the tank, Ivan briefly inspected the tank exterior. Despite the past battle, the tank appeared to be in perfect condition, as if it had just rolled off the factory floor. Ivan found this puzzling but pushed the thought aside for later. His priority now was setting up the satellite phone and contacting headquarters.

With the weight of the mission's success resting heavily on their shoulders, Ivan knew they couldn't afford to fail. He was not only responsible for his crew but also for the fate of their country. Despite that, Ivan wanted to reach out for HQ first.

When he’s about to go on the trailer, Ivan suddenly hears a rustle behind him. With lightning speed, Ivan took aim with his rifle in that direction. But there’s nothing. Only the night breeze swaying the trees and the sounds of insects. Ivan continues.

As Ivan cautiously approached the trailer, his senses remained heightened, every rustle of the grass and every movement of the trees sending a jolt of adrenaline through his veins. With each step, he scanned his surroundings, his eyes darting from one shadow to the next, searching for any sign of movement.

Suddenly, he heard another rustle, this time closer and faster than before. He spun around, his rifle raised, ready to confront whatever lurked in the darkness. His pulse quickened as he observed the plants swaying unnaturally, a clear sign of someone—or something—hiding among them.

"Who's there?!" Ivan called out, his voice echoing through the night. Silence greeted him in return, adding to the eerie atmosphere that surrounded him. Determined to ascertain the identity of his unseen visitor, Ivan decided to use the countersign. Countersign is used to identify if someone is your ally. It works when you say a certain word then they must reply with a password.

"Groundhogs," Ivan uttered, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of urgency. He must hear a response password “Shovel tunnel” because that's the designated reply for that. He waited, his senses on high alert, but no reply came. The tension in the air thickened as Ivan slowly advanced towards the source of the movements. His grip tightening on his rifle. “I know you’re in there so show up! I won’t shoot you.”

Then, as if on cue, a thick cloud drifted across the moon, plunging the surroundings into darkness. Ivan's heart raced as he sensed movement all around him, the sound of footsteps growing louder with each passing moment. He knew he was surrounded, and dread crept into his mind as he braced himself for whatever lay ahead.

With the moonlight slowly reilluminating the area, Ivan finally caught sight of his adversaries. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he beheld the unexpected sight before him. "What the hell...?" he breathed, his mind struggling to comprehend the surreal scene unfolding before him.

Standing across from him, bathed in the pale moonlight, was a grotesque creature. It was no taller than a man, but its hunched posture and thick, muscular legs made it appear surprisingly menacing. Its skin was a sickly green, covered in warts and boils. A cruel smile stretched across its wide, toothy maw, revealing needle-like fangs. In its bony hands, the creature clutched a wickedly curved dagger, a long, barbed spear, and a crude but menacing shortbow. An ornate quiver, filled with mismatched arrows, hung over its bony shoulder. Only then, with every horrifying detail solidifying in his mind. He thought that these creatures could only be seen as fictions in movies or anime.