Okay, today I'll say it all.

[Beginning of the audio recording.]
 
Well. I didn't want to talk about this for the longest time but I need to get it off my chest. People keep asking me how I managed to escape from the Legion, and most importantly, how I managed to not get killed when I claim they were in the process of burning me alive for my desertion.
 
I should probably start at the beginning, though.
 
I was assembled in a factory in the North. I never really found out its name, because I got drafted by the Legion straight out of the factory gates. They were (and still are) in control of that area. Daily life in the Legion is... not great. Maybe the other units have it better. But I was drafted into Unit 37-42, and that's one of Inferno's units. We were flame tank units. Most of us folks don't have a main weapon like 99% of the rest of tanks have. Our unit's TRVs take that from us and replace it with a flamethrower. Most of us don't have enough hull space for an additional, regular cannon.
 
So, that means when we inevitably get sent off into battle, we have very little in the way of defending ourselves. We have to get really close and really lucky to be able to kill another tank. That's why we mostly acted as support units for other Legion units, to set the scenery on fire or distract the enemies while the other unit fights them.
 
In a way, we were probably lucky. The flame tank units are different from most other units. We weren't turned into brain-dead zombies like they do it with the footsoldiers of the other units. If you are drafted into the Legion, there's normally two options: You become a command tank or officer and get to live out your twisted fantasies of subdueing and exploiting your peers... or you get your conscience taken away and become a remote-controlled killing machine.
 
But like I said, I was in neither position. I was just a common flame tank. That means that it was expected of me to risk my life every single day as I was sent off to raids where I was used as cannon fodder at best. Somehow I survived every time. When we weren't on raids, we were confined to camps. You weren't allowed to even go on a drive. Everything you did and said was monitored. There was one radio station we were allowed to listen to, and it was spewing propaganda 24/7. Fuel, water, oil, etc, and parts were strictly rationed. I never knew what it felt like to have a full fuel tank before I left. I didn't even get enough paint to put a proper camo on my hull.
 
Well, here's the thing: They made us believe that this... existence was better than life outside the clan territory. Than life with the free teams. They painted the devil on the walls. They said outside of the Legion, there's no joy or loyalty or mercy. They said there's only greed and cannibalism. They said if we set a track outside our camp, there'll be someone waiting already to tear us to pieces for our parts.
 
And that's why we went and slaughtered them each and every day. Strong teams, weak teams, teams that tried to run away or surrender... There was no difference. We killed them all because our officers told us to. We were told these tanks were nothing but savages that tried to harm us and wanted our resources, our lives. We were told that in order for peace to finally come to this world, we needed to get rid of them.
 
For the longest time, I believed it all. I was three winters old when it finally dawned on me that I and all the others... we were just being used. The free teams aren't our enemy, and never have been. The Legion's goal was never to create peace, or make our lives better. I still don't know what they are really trying to do, and maybe I'll never find out. But I'm convinced it's something sinister. Even if it's not, this clan is a big cult. A sect. They keep their soldiers in line with fear and lies. The higher ups live out their whims without repercussions and never have to feel hungry or afraid. Meanwhile, we underlings were the dust under their tracks, dying like flies. I couldn't bear it anymore.
 
I knew very well what happens to traitors. I saw before what the Legion does to people who try to desert. Our chief, Snare - Sulfur may eat his core! - never made it a secret what happens if you try to quit.
 
When I started making plans about running away, I knew that I couldn't tell anyone about it. They were all too brainwashed, and our officers said many times that there are rewards for soldiers who snitch on potential traitors. But I also knew that I couldn't escape on my own. I needed someone, an accomplice. A confidante... I found that someone. In hindsight, I should have never told her. I'm very sorry that I did. I don't know what became of the poor tank after I was executed. But she was my only friend, and I foolishly hoped she could help me. Maybe we could have even escaped together... I guess that was what I was hoping for.
 
But it didn't work out. She didn't tell anyone, no. That's not how my desertion failed. I actually managed to run away with her help... But I didn't get far. I didn't know anything about life outside the clan. I didn't know where to go and how to find someone who wouldn't kill me on sight. When my unit noticed that I was missing, they sent some tank destroyers after me, and they found me quickly...
 
I was caught and taken to a fortress near Scharnhorst. It was the base of Unit 81-4, which my unit had been ordered to support. So they met the other unit there and they all gathered for my public execution. I was chained to a statue, on top of a pile of wood, drenched in fuel. Really, there was no way I should have gotten out of that alive. They set the whole thing with me on top of it on fire and... I was gone.
 
Here's where it gets a bit... weird. I don't know what happened afterwards or how anything happened in that moment really, but I ended up in a whole different universe, somehow. It's like ours, but they live peaceful lives. It's basically what our world could be if we could get our shit together and stop killing each other for a moment. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? But it's true. That's how I survived.
 
Like I said, I'm very sorry about my confidante. I know that they found out that she knew about my plans and didn't report it. I don't know what they did to her. I hope she suffered a different fate.
 
And that's how it all went down, basically. It's why I will never ever have a single good word for the Legion anymore. They're a horrible organization of lunatics and warmongers and I feel deeply sorry for anyone who fell for their lies. I hope anyone who is still trapped with them will be able to escape as well, soon, and in a less horrifying way than I had to.
 
[End of the audio recording.]