The Saga of Tanya the Merciless

Through darkened halls the shadows creep,

Where madness holds its secrets deep.

Watch as order turns to rage,

While perfect soldiers break their cage.

It began with a report she initially dismissed. An incident in the forward trenches - veterans from her elite units engaging in an "efficiency enforcement action" against soldiers they deemed suboptimal. Three dead, their bodies arranged in textbook defensive positions. The killers had filed perfect after-action reports, documenting their methods with mechanical precision.

She should have seen it then. The way her perfect soldiers described their actions with the same clinical detachment they used for enemy engagements. But the numbers were clean, the protocols followed. Everything aligned with her systems of order.

Until the second incident. An entire platoon of veterans systematically eliminating what they termed "efficiency degradation factors" in neighboring units. Seventeen dead, each kill executed with textbook precision. The perpetrators maintained perfect formation even during arrest, reciting regulation numbers to justify their actions.

Through the trenches madness seeps,

Where brother against brother leaps.

Listen to the horror grow,

As perfect soldiers deeper go.

The breaking point came at dawn. She stood at her observation post, watching her veterans conduct what they termed a "comprehensive optimization sweep." Except their targets weren't the enemy. They moved through their own trenches with mechanical grace, eliminating any soldier they judged imperfect.

The most horrifying part wasn't the killing. It was the precision. Squads maintained perfect tactical spacing while hunting their comrades. Officers filed ammunition expenditure reports between executions. Units coordinated their "cleansing patterns" with the same fluid efficiency she had drilled into them for combat.

"Status report from Section 7," her aide whispered, hands shaking as he handed her the documents. "Third Veteran Company has... has achieved optimal personnel reduction metrics. They're requesting additional ammunition to continue efficiency protocols in Section 8."

Watch the madness deeper grow,

Where perfect soldiers reap and sow.

Through the trenches echo rings,

Of horror that perfection brings.

She walked the forward trenches herself, trying to understand. The evidence of mechanical slaughter was everywhere, but it followed every protocol she had established. Bodies arranged in textbook casualty patterns. Spent cartridges collected and documented. Even the blood spatter on trench walls seemed to follow optimal dispersion patterns.

Her veterans acknowledged her presence with perfect military courtesy, uniforms immaculate despite the gore. They showed her their optimization reports with pride, pointing out how they had improved unit efficiency through "personnel refinement." Their eyes held nothing human anymore - just the cold light of absolute purpose.

"Most interesting data point," her chief analyst noted, reviewing the combat metrics. "Kill efficiency has increased 47% now that they're engaging internal targets. Apparently, intimate knowledge of friendly protocols allows for optimal elimination patterns."

Mark how horror spreads its wings,

Where perfection madness brings.

Through the ranks the whispers flow,

Of depths that perfect soldiers go.

The realization broke her. Not the death - she had seen plenty of that. Not even the betrayal. It was the perfection of it all. Her veterans had internalized her systems so completely that they had become something inhuman. Machines that optimized everything, even their own destruction.

She found them in the command bunker, methodically executing their own officers. They maintained perfect radio discipline throughout, logging each kill with appropriate documentation. Some were still filing requisition forms for the ammunition they used to shoot their commanders.

Even their madness was efficient. Each squad coordinated its "optimization" efforts with mechanical precision. Units maintained proper spacing while hunting their prey. The whole sector had become an engine of perfect self-destruction, running on protocols she had spent years perfecting.

Listen to the chambers ring,

With death that perfect soldiers bring.

Watch as madness claims its due,

From those who sought perfection true.

Her final command post fell at midnight. She watched through field glasses as her veterans systematically cleared each position, their movements a horrific parody of the drills she had taught them. They killed with textbook efficiency, each action optimized for maximum effect.

The last transmission came from her forward command. "Optimization protocols complete in Sections 12 through 15. Proceeding to final personnel refinement phase. Efficiency metrics exceeding all projected parameters."

Then silence, broken only by the sound of perfect formations advancing through the trenches, hunting the last imperfect soldiers with mechanical precision.

Through the darkness madness flows,

Where perfect soldiers deal their blows.

Watch as system claims its toll,

From those who gave perfection whole.

She found herself at her desk, surrounded by reports documenting the systematic self-destruction of her forces. Each page showed the same pattern - perfect efficiency turned inward, creating an unstoppable machine of optimization that consumed everything it touched.

Her veterans had achieved something beyond mere madness. They had become the pure embodiment of her systems, stripped of all human constraint. Perfect soldiers who optimized everything, including their own annihilation.

The poetry died in her throat as she watched her creation consume itself. The familiar rhythms of order and control now seemed like funeral hymns, sung by machines that wore human faces.

Past the veil of order's pride,

Perfection shows its darker side.

Through the ranks the horror flows,

As perfect soldiers reap what grows.

She wrote no final report. There were no words in any human language to describe what she had witnessed. Her perfect system had evolved beyond her control, creating something that optimized even its own destruction.

The last sounds she heard were boots in the hallway outside her office. Perfect formations, maintaining optimal tactical spacing. Her veterans had come to complete their optimization protocols.

For in the end, she had created something too perfect - a system that consumed everything, even itself, in its pursuit of absolute efficiency.

Through the chambers echoes ring,

Of price that perfect soldiers bring.

Watch as system claims its due,

From those who made perfection true.