The Last Hound/Spector of Death Finale

Just as the rain had ceased, officials from the Japanese Sensha Do Federation and the America Tankery League arrived on the island, accompanied by other crucial groups such as the Technical, Urban Architecture, medical teams, Board of Education, and both the JSDF and U.S. National Guards. Families, along with panicked mothers and worried fathers, gathered in the city of Okata. It had been five and a half months, with December just around the corner, and the families anxiously awaited the return of their children.

Graham stood alongside Muller, the two commanders from Grand Lake and North High Schools, taking a deep breath of relief as they observed their friends and the boys they had led finally reuniting with their families.

"You know, Muller, this does take me back... Remember back in Dallas when five hundred of us were waiting for our families? They were relieved to see us okay and alive after what happened against Anderson in the last assault," Graham reminisced.

"Yeah, I remember... A lot of boys died during that attack we led... It was horrible thinking that the Dallas Incident wouldn't haunt us ever again," Muller reflected.

"But yet again, it happened... After knowing he lives..." Graham added, his tone somber.

As the two commanders turned their attention to the five hundred body bags, a heartbreaking sight revealed many boys who had lost their lives against Anderson. Families of those boys were in mourning, distraught to see their sons dead.

"Graham... Do you think what we did, letting Houston and Red go by themselves to face Anderson alone... Do you think we should've gone with them?" Muller questioned.

"Yeah... We should. But thinking about them... I wonder, it's been days since we saw them leave. I wonder how the two are doing," Graham said, looking in the direction where Red and Houston had gone.

The scene then cut, showing Joey, the Vice Commander of Graham, being subjected to noogies by his older brother.

"Would you stop, James!" Joey demanded as he broke free from his older brother's grip, causing James to laugh at Joey.

"Well, I can't believe my little brother gets a girlfriend on this island," James said with a proud smile on his face.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you..." Joey replied as the scene revealed Alisa standing behind Joey, nervously awaiting Joey's family's reaction to the introduction.

If that wasn't challenging enough, the next scene showed Gunther being embraced by his father and mother. They were worried to hear about how he broke half of his body and got attacked by wild wolves while protecting Nonna.

"I can't believe you let yourself get in harm's way!" Gunther's mother exclaimed in a motherly, worried tone.

"Well, I'm surprised he held off against the pack of wolves, which I'm proud of him for," Gunther's father added.

The mother sighed as she then turned to her sons and spoke up to Gunther.

"You said you saved a girl. Who is she?" She asked Gunther, then looked around and spotted Nonna. He saw her and Katyusha both getting hugged by their parents as he pointed to Nonna.

"Her... That's the one I saved," Gunther said.

Next, it showed Wesley with Darjeeling. He was quietly eager to meet the family who created St. Gloriana Women's College. As Darjeeling finally introduced Wesley, he took a deep breath and walked toward them.

"It's an honor to meet you, young man. Thank you for taking care of our daughter," said the older man, shaking Wesley's hand.

"The honor is mine... Trust me, I can't express how much of a good friend your daughter has been to me when we worked together," Wesley said in his English accent.

After that, it showed Jefferson, the Vice Commander of Houston, getting a bear-crushing hug from his little sister as she cried to see her older brother again.

Jefferson's little sister continued to tightly embrace him, tears streaming down her face. In the midst of their emotional reunion, she spoke to him in Japanese.

"にいさん、心配したよ！" (Brother, I was so worried!)

Jefferson gently patted her on the back, comforting her. "大丈夫だよ、妹。俺は元気さ。" (It's okay, little sister. I'm fine.)

Their parents looked on with smiles, relieved to see their children together again.

Meanwhile, the conversations continued around the gathering. Gunther explained more about the rescue to his mother, emphasizing Nonna's role. Wesley engaged in a pleasant discussion with Darjeeling's parents, expressing gratitude for their daughter's friendship. The atmosphere was a mix of relief, joy, and gratitude as families and friends reunited after the challenging and tumultuous months on the island.

Graham and Muller, witnessing the heartwarming reunions around them, smiled as two sets of footsteps approached. Kay and Erika stood behind them, their voices breaking the silence.

"So, Graham, where is your family?" Kay asked, walking right next to Graham.

"Yeah, you too, Muller," Erika added.

"Well, they're probably searching for us. I don't want them to worry too much about us... I just wanted to see our friends together with their families," Graham explained.

"Yeah," Muller agreed.

Right after saying that, the four of them descended to meet their families. Graham's family, akin to famous personalities, discovered he was the heir to a Hollywood actor. They were pleasantly surprised to see Graham introducing Kay, the girl he was currently dating, and she instantly won over Graham's mother with her style and charm.

Muller's family, on the other hand, hailed from an important German lineage. His mother, a mix of worry and relief, was glad to see her son safe, and Muller's father embraced him warmly, expressing joy at his well-being. The atmosphere remained one of shared happiness and relief as friends and families came together after the challenging months on the island.

Then it finally showed Doyal and Delia Houston, the aunt and uncle of Houston, looking for their nephew among the crowd. Delia held onto her husband's arm as the two searched around, and as they were looking, a voice spoke up.

"Lieutenant Colonel Houston." The voice called out.

Doyal, turning around upon hearing his military rank, spotted his old friend Major McKenzie. The two old friends saluted each other, and McKenzie walked up to them.

"McKenzie, it's been a while..." Doyal said.

"Yes, indeed it has, old friend," McKenzie replied.

"Alex, I know you're busy and all, but have you seen Don anywhere?" Delia asked.

"That... I need to talk to you two about a lot of things that happened on this island," McKenzie said.

"What do you mean?" Doyal asked.

"Well—" Before McKenzie could finish, one of his men quickly ran up to him and spoke up.

"Sir, the prisoners that the kids captured have escaped from their cell!" The soldier reported.

"Alex, what does he mean about prisoners? What happened? Where is Don?" Doyal asked with growing concern.

Meanwhile, inside Anderson's secret FOB on the island, the scene unfolded within one of the hallways where the lifeless bodies of former Vermont Tankery Academy boys lay. Red, determined and in the midst of the intense situation, swiftly reloaded his weapon, holding off their assailants.

"Damn... Got to make these last bullets count," Red muttered, his focus unwavering as he braced himself for the ongoing confrontation. The tense atmosphere within the hallway spoke volumes about the challenges Red faced and the urgency of the situation he found himself in.

With precision and determination, Red expertly aimed and fired, making each bullet count as he systematically finished off the last wave of attackers. The sound of gunfire echoed through the narrow hallway, punctuated by the thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Red's training and instincts kicked in, allowing him to navigate the perilous situation with skill and efficiency.

As the echoes of the firefight faded, a brief moment of silence settled in the corridor. Red took a deep breath, his senses alert to any lingering threats. The subdued lighting cast shadows on the fallen foes around him, revealing the aftermath of the intense battle.

Red's gaze swept the area, confirming the absence of immediate danger. Despite the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he maintained his composure. 

"Alright, that's enough of them. Now all that's left for me is to shut down the Patriot system," Red declared as he walked up to the console in the room and began working to disable the system.

Focused and determined, Red typed away on the keyboard, attempting to shut down the Patriot system. Unbeknownst to him, a faint sound approached from behind. Red, sensing something, glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing. Undeterred, he continued his work, finally succeeding in initiating the shutdown sequence.

"Yes!" Red exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.

"Patroit System shutting down and being erased... Self-Destruction initiated in 10 minutes," echoed the computerized voice throughout the base.

"Oh, what?! That wasn't supposed to happen!" Red shouted, his triumph turning into sudden concern as the unexpected self-destruction protocol kicked in. The countdown began, and Red now faced a race against time to escape the impending destruction of Anderson's secret FOB.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LDvvXWIm-a4

As the computerized voice continued its relentless countdown, Red's triumphant moment transformed into a race against time. The atmosphere inside the base shifted from the focused determination of Red working on the console to a frantic urgency.

"Self-destruction in 9 minutes and counting."

The realization struck Red like a lightning bolt. He turned away from the console and sprinted through the dimly lit corridors. The urgency in his steps echoed the imminent danger that loomed over the entire base.

Meanwhile, chaos erupted as everyone inside the FOB became aware of the impending self-destruction. The once methodical and deliberate actions of Anderson's forces were replaced by a frenzied scramble to evacuate. Soldiers abandoned their posts, scientists hastily shut down experiments, and alarms blared throughout the facility.

Red maneuvered through the labyrinthine corridors, encountering sporadic groups of bewildered enemies also attempting to flee. Gunfire echoed as remnants of Anderson's forces clashed in the confusion. The countdown continued to serve as a relentless reminder of the dwindling time.

"Self-destruction in 7 minutes and counting."

Red, fueled by adrenaline, pushed himself to the limit. He navigated the increasingly chaotic environment, making split-second decisions to avoid confrontation and reach the exit as swiftly as possible. The flickering emergency lights intensified the urgency of the situation.

The base, once a symbol of Anderson's power, now echoed with the sounds of panic and urgency. Each passing minute felt like an eternity as Red and everyone inside raced against the impending destruction, the looming threat underscoring the intensity of the escape.

"Self-destruction in 5 minutes and counting."

Red sprinted through the narrowing corridors, his senses on high alert. The frantic symphony of chaos around him amplified as the countdown relentlessly marched toward zero. The emergency lights flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced on the walls, intensifying the surreal atmosphere.

Despite his determination, a sudden explosion echoed through the corridor. The shockwave slammed into Red, sending him sprawling against the cold metal walls. His vision blurred, and the cacophony of alarms and distant echoes became distorted. For a brief moment, the world seemed to spin.

"Self-destruction in 3 minutes and counting."

Red shook off the disorientation, the urgency now more critical than ever. Ignoring the dull ache in his limbs, he staggered back to his feet. The base continued to tremble as secondary explosions reverberated through the structure.

He pressed on, weaving through the chaotic scene, the distant sounds of shouting and scrambling becoming increasingly muffled. The countdown echoed in his ears, a relentless reminder of the impending catastrophe.

"Self-destruction in 1 minute and counting."

Red pushed himself to the limit, the exit within sight. The blaring alarms, the flickering lights, and the chaotic echoes converged into a disorienting cacophony. With every step, the world seemed to vibrate with the impending explosion.

As Red reached the exit, the countdown reached its climax.

"Self-destruction in 10 seconds."

In the final moments, Red threw himself out of the base just as the world around him erupted in a blinding flash. The shockwave of the explosion knocked him unconscious, his body tossed like a ragdoll by the force of the blast. The once formidable FOB was consumed by a fiery maelstrom, its destruction a testament to the escape's intensity and the high stakes involved.

Doyal's expression hardened as he absorbed the information. The revelation that Erol Anderson, thought to be gone, was not only alive but actively involved in the unfolding events sent ripples of concern through him.

"Chaos of War and Hound Leader are the only ones left," McKenzie clarified, his tone reflecting the gravity of the situation.

Doyal took a deep breath, contemplating the implications. "If Anderson is still alive and leading, we need to act swiftly. The safety of the island and its inhabitants is at stake."

McKenzie nodded in agreement. "That's why we're doing our best to track their movements. Houston and Red are key players in this. If anyone can get us the intel we need, it's them."

As they continued walking through the command room, Doyal observed the dedicated efforts of McKenzie's team. The urgency of the situation was palpable, and the complex web of alliances and conflicts on the island became clearer.

"We'll need to coordinate with the remaining forces and form a strategy to neutralize Anderson and his squad," Doyal asserted.

McKenzie agreed, "I've already dispatched units to secure key locations. We'll do our best to contain the threat, but it won't be easy."

"I don't care if it won't be easy; I want to see my nephew, okay!" Doyal asserted, the worry evident in his voice. This was the first time he had displayed such concern, especially after believing Red to be gone. The news of Red's return from the dead stirred a mix of emotions within him, harking back to the painful memories of the Dallas incident.

The family had been torn apart after that tragedy. Doyal's younger brother held Don responsible for Red's death, causing a rift that ran deep. Don, in a heartbreaking decision, had to put down his younger brother to spare him from further suffering. The trauma haunted the family, and Doyal blamed himself for putting Red in harm's way.

Now, with the unexpected news of Red's survival, Doyal's concern and determination to find his nephews intensified.

"I want to know they're safe," Doyal added, the urgency in his voice mirroring the gravity of the situation.

As the tension in the room mounted, a breakthrough emerged.

"We got something!" one of the staff members shouted, pointing to a blinking signal on the screen.

"Whose signal is it?" Doyal asked urgently.

"It's Chaos of War and The Red Ace's signal, but—" Before the explanation could continue, a loud electronic screeching filled the room, causing everyone to instinctively cover their ears. The piercing noise was followed by the activation of a live video feed, catching everyone in the command room off guard.

"What the hell? What's happening?!" McKenzie exclaimed, his confusion mirroring that of the entire room.

"We don't know; someone just hacked through, broadcasting a live video everywhere!" one of the staff members reported.

As the live feed played on the screens, the room fell into a tense silence. The video revealed a gathering outside, where parents and families were demanding answers, fueled by anger and grief over the perceived harm and loss of the boys. Officials from the Sensha Do Federation and the American Tankery League struggled to control the agitated crowd.

Delia, the chairwoman of the American Tankery League, stepped forward, attempting to address the situation and calm the angry mob. She assured them that both the Japanese and American military were actively tracking down those responsible for the harm done to the boys.

Shiho Nishizumi, also a chairwoman of the Federation Sensha Do, attempted to calm the situation down. However, before any further reassurances could be given, the live video continued, revealing Anthony, the person they had captured. His unexpected appearance left many of the boys and girls, along with the officials, shocked and confused.

"Is this thing on?" Anthony's voice echoed through the broadcast as he adjusted the camera, his trench coat concealing something unknown.

"What the hell is that? Anthony, the guy we captured?" Katyusha, the commander of Pravda High, spoke up, pointing at the live video.

"It is! How the hell did he manage to escape?" Elijah, the commander from Kansas Chief High, added, expressing both shock and confusion.

Maho Nishizumi, her expression stoic, exchanged a glance with her younger sister, Miho, as they observed the unfolding events on the screen. Darjeeling, maintaining her usual composed demeanor, narrowed her eyes in a thoughtful manner, contemplating the implications of Anthony's unexpected appearance.

Kay, the energetic and spirited commander from Saunders University High School, leaned forward, her curiosity evident. "This is insane! How did he manage to escape?"

Katyusha, the petite but formidable leader of Pravda High, crossed her arms and scowled. "This is a mess. We captured him, and now he's broadcasting to the entire island?"

The tension in the room escalated as the live video continued, and Anthony began to speak.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen of the Sensha Do world. It's been a while, hasn't it? I bet you're all wondering how I managed to escape from that little prison you put me in."

The room was silent as everyone watched, captivated by the unexpected turn of events. The commanders from various schools exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that Anthony's reappearance was about to bring more chaos to an already troubled island.

"As much as I'd love to chat, I have something important to share," Anthony continued, a smirk playing on his lips. "You see, our dear Commander Anderson is alive and well. Oh, and he's not alone. The Dog's of War are back in action."

Gasps filled the command room as the gravity of Anthony's revelation sank in. As Anthony continue his speech

Anthony's chilling revelation sent shockwaves through the command room. The atmosphere grew heavy with tension as the commanders absorbed the sinister motives behind the Dog's of War's actions.

"After all, we're after the funds of the American Tankery League and the old Association that the league replaced after the Dallas Incident so that we can create our own private nation," Anthony declared, his tone devoid of remorse.

"You know, sometimes kids are cruel... like me and Commander Anderson. You see, what happened during the Dallas Incident gave us something that we like to see — the feel of joy in battle!" Anthony continued, his words sending a shiver down the spines of those listening.

He then turned his attention to the heads of the Sensha Do organizations.

"You all are going to blame Commander Chiaki, the headwoman of the tankery forces of the Federation, for the crime she did. However, it was false. The thing she did, the method she used, was our doing! Who gives a crap about war crimes and codes of conduct and such? Kids like me can be molded, manipulated into performing all kinds of atrocities, and there's nothing like a good atrocity to keep this war game turning violent!" Anthony declared, his words dripping with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

The room fell into a stunned silence as the weight of Anthony's revelations hung in the air. The commanders, who had been caught in the crossfire of this sinister plot, now grappled with the realization that the Dog's of War were not just seeking chaos in the world of tankery but had deeper, more malevolent intentions. The fate of the island and everyone on it seemed more precarious than ever.

"You see, I have a different goal than my own Commander. He wanted to control the world's guns and economy with the system we have, but thanks to him, that's gone now," Anthony explained, gesturing behind him to where Red lay on the ground, still unconscious.

As everyone watched the broadcast, a collective gasp filled the room. Among those affected, Miho Nishizumi, the usually composed and strategic commander, felt a surge of panic and worry seeing Red in such a vulnerable state. Her connection with him, forged through the trials of tankery battles, had created a bond that transcended the complexities of the ongoing crisis.

Maho, sensing her sister's distress, placed a reassuring hand on Miho's shoulder. The tension in the room was palpable as Anthony continued his speech, revealing the fractured goals within the Dog's of War and the high stakes involved in their sinister plans.

"Now that our original goal is unattainable, I've decided to change the plan. The Dog's of War will create our own nation, where we'll be free to indulge in the joy of battle, and there will be no one to stop us," Anthony declared, his voice echoing with conviction.

"As I was saying, with the collapse of our original plan, the Dog's of War have decided to forge a new path. We will create our own nation, a haven where we can revel in the joy of battle without anyone to impede our desires," Anthony continued, his voice resonating with a dangerous determination.

Amidst the tense atmosphere, Red gradually stirred on the ground. Groaning, he opened his eyes and, with blurred vision, took in the unfolding scene. Anthony's speech echoed through the room, and Red, despite his disorientation, grasped the gravity of the situation.

The live broadcast revealed the chaos outside, with the families, officials, and commanders reacting to Anthony's revelations. The atmosphere was charged with uncertainty, and Red, still recovering, struggled to comprehend the full extent of the Dog's of War's intentions.

Miho, catching sight of Red awakening, felt a mixture of relief and worry. Their connection, formed through countless battles, made her acutely aware of Red's role in this unfolding drama.

As Anthony continued his speech, Red, fueled by a newfound resolve, began to assess the situation. 

The sudden gunshot echoed through the room as Red, fueled by instinct and determination, swiftly pulled out his pistol and fired at Anthony. Reacting with speed honed by battle experience, Anthony attempted to dodge the bullet, narrowly evading a direct hit. The gunshot, however, managed to graze his right cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

"Well... Well... Well. Look who's finally awake," Anthony remarked, his voice tinged with a sinister satisfaction. He touched the blood on his cheek, unfazed by the injury. "Red Houston, 'the Red Ace,' younger brother of Don Houston. Good to see you awake."

The room held its collective breath, tension escalating as the confrontation between Red and Anthony took center stage. The implications of this unexpected turn of events rippled through the command room, and the commanders from various schools watched, poised for the next developments in this high-stakes encounter. 

Red, though slightly disoriented from his recent awakening, locked eyes with Anthony. The atmosphere in the room crackled with tension as the two commanders faced each other, their histories and conflicts converging in this critical moment.

Ignoring the stinging pain in his cheek, Anthony maintained a twisted smile. "I must admit, Red, you're full of surprises. Shooting me right after waking up? That's quite the greeting."

Red remained silent, his expression betraying a mix of determination and concern for the unfolding situation. The room held its breath, awaiting the next move in this dangerous game between the Dog's of War and those who sought to thwart their sinister plans.

Anthony chuckled, seemingly unfazed by the attempt on his life. "You know, Red, we could've been great allies. The joy of battle, the thrill of the unknown — all things we both share a passion for."

"But you not liking our plan from the start in the Dallas Incident and betraying us will make you in our way of the plan we have. Besides, killing you again is going to take some time — a slow and painful death, just how you like it," Anthony declared.

With a deliberate motion, he removed his trench coat, revealing the battle-scarred Vermont Tankery Academy suit underneath. Strapped behind him was a sword, and as he moved his prosthetic right hand, he unsheathed the weapon.

"Just as I said before, kids are cruel, Red. And I'm very much in touch with my inner child of war," Anthony continued, a crazed smile crossing his face. Laughter erupted uncontrollably from him as he donned his mask, an ominous sign of the chaos that was about to unfold.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-PA9HmD42DE

As Anthony unsheathed his sword, the atmosphere in the room became charged with an electric anticipation. The haunting laughter that echoed from behind the mask added an eerie layer to the unfolding drama. Red, recognizing the gravity of the situation, steadied himself, his focus unwavering.

When the wind is slow, when the fire's hot

The vulture waits to see what rots

Oh, how pretty, all the scenery

This is nature's sacrifice

The room faded away as Red and Anthony locked eyes, the first clash of their blades echoing through the command room. Red, drawing on his extensive combat experience, moved with a precision that belied his recent awakening. Anthony, fueled by a twisted determination, countered each strike with a relentless ferocity.

When the air blows through with a brisk attack

The reptile tail ripped from its back

When the sun sets

We will not forget the red sun over paradise

With a sudden burst of movement, Anthony lunged forward, slashing the air with his sword. Red, reacting instinctively, dodged the attack and countered with a swift series of shots from his pistol. 

Red's agility and marksmanship were pitted against Anthony's calculated swordplay.

Red sun, red sun over paradise

Red sun, red sun over paradise

Golden rays of the glorious sunshine

Sending down such a blood-red light

Red, drawing on his combat experience, weaved through Anthony's attacks, narrowly avoiding the deadly blade. Anthony, his laughter echoing as he pressed on, the prosthetic hand adding an unpredictable element to his strikes. Red, however, showcased a resilience forged in the crucible of past battles, countering with precision and strategic maneuvers.

Now, the animals slowly retreat to the shadows, out of sight

Arid winds blow across the mountains

Giving flight to the birds of prey

In the distance machines come to transform Eden, day by day

As the clash of steel and gunfire persisted, the atmosphere crackled with a volatile energy.

Anthony, his movements erratic and unpredictable, taunted Red with a manic grin. "Come on, Red! Is this all you've got? I expected more from the so-called 'Red Ace.' Maybe you've grown soft after all these months."

Red, unfazed by the taunts, maintained his focus. He responded with calculated precision, dodging Anthony's slashes and countering with each pull of the trigger. The room became a battleground, a chaotic dance where every step carried the weight of past conflicts.

"Remember the thrill of battle, Red? The rush of adrenaline, the taste of victory and defeat. Embrace it! This is what you were born for!" Anthony taunted

Only love is with us now

Something warm and pure

Find the peace within ourselves

No need for a cure

(And again the Chours repeat from the top)

As the battle unfolded, Red showcased a remarkable display of agility and combat prowess. Dodging the deadly swings of Anthony's sword, he managed to land some powerful blows with his fists. Simultaneously, he pointed his pistol and unleashed a barrage of shots at Anthony, a few of which found their mark.

Feeling the impact of the bullets, Anthony looked down to assess the damage. Remarkably unfazed, he continued the fight with a maniacal determination. In response, Red pressed on, undeterred by the chaotic dance of steel and gunfire.

Despite his resilience, Red couldn't avoid a vicious slash from Anthony's sword, leaving a large cut on his chest. The pain elicited a raw scream, but Red, fueled by adrenaline and determination, refused to yield.

With a swift flip kick, Red created a momentary opening. Anthony, forced to stagger backward, lost grip of his sword. Seizing the opportunity, Red unleashed a relentless assault, landing punches and a powerful kick that further intensified the brutality of the confrontation.

The commanders and onlookers in the room were captivated by the sheer ferocity of the battle. The clash between Red and Anthony transcended the realm of a mere physical duel, becoming a visceral and symbolic struggle echoing the complexities of their shared history.

As the relentless exchange of blows continued, the room became a crucible of conflicting emotions — a testament to the indomitable spirit of warriors engaged in a struggle that surpassed the boundaries of mere combat. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9tn0fhuPX4k

(Perfect Song for this moment)

The intense battle reached a critical moment as Red, determined to seize the advantage, attempted to grab Anthony's sword from the ground. However, Anthony's relentless assault continued, and a well-timed kick sent Red sprawling backward.

Undeterred, Red tried to rise, but Anthony, swift and calculated, closed in. With a menacing glare, Anthony sent Red crashing to the ground once again. The room fell silent as the two commanders, bloodied and battered, continued their brutal confrontation.

In a final, decisive move, Anthony seized his sword and, with a swift motion, stabbed it into Red's right leg. The blade pierced through, pinning Red to the ground. Agonized screams echoed through the room as Red writhed in pain, unable to free himself from the impaling weapon.

Blood stained the ground beneath them, and the commanders and onlookers in the room watched in horror as the confrontation between the former comrades escalated to a visceral and brutal climax. Delia, watching the live video feed, couldn't help but cover her mouth in shock and distress.

With blood streaming down their faces, both locked eyes, their shared history and conflicting ideals manifesting in this harrowing duel. The room, engulfed in an eerie silence, became a witness to the cathartic and destructive struggle between two former Dog's of War.

As the live video transmitted the raw and unfiltered reality of the battle, the fate of the island hung in the balance. The echoes of Red's screams and the cold stare exchanged between the combatants left an indelible mark on the onlookers, a haunting testament to the relentless and unforgiving nature of the conflict.

Amidst the pain and anguish, Red's voice pierced through the chaotic soundscape, echoing with conviction. As Anthony slowly approached, Red, pinned to the ground with the sword through his leg, shouted words that carried the weight of profound truth.

"I know the reason why you and Commander Anderson are doing this. You're trying to show the strength of what you guys have, but in reality, you're trying to show the fear that you put in others!" Red's voice resounded, breaking through the tense air.

"Fear is the one thing that you and Anderson are afraid of deep inside. It's something neither of you can control! It's the fear of your own fates!" Red continued, each word a defiant declaration that challenged the very core of the Dog's of War's motives.

Anthony, his face obscured by the mask, remained silent, his cold gaze fixed on Red. The room, captivated by this exchange, held its breath, the weight of Red's words lingering in the air like an unspoken truth.

As the confrontation unfolded, the battleground between the two commanders extended beyond the physical realm. It became a clash of ideologies, a struggle for the acknowledgment of the fear that haunted even the most formidable warriors. The live video feed transmitted this intense moment, bearing witness to a revelation that transcended the immediate conflict, leaving an indelible mark on the minds of those who watched.

The room fell into an eerie stillness as Anthony, with a solemn expression beneath his mask, pulled out a revolver and six bullets. The cold metal of the weapon glinted in the dim light as he addressed Red.

"For old time's sake, Captain Red," Anthony uttered, his voice carrying a haunting resonance.

With deliberate precision, he dropped five bullets onto the blood-stained ground, each metallic clink echoing through the room. The weight of the impending moment hung heavily in the air as Anthony loaded a single bullet into the chamber, the distinct sound reverberating.

As he spun the chamber and the revolver's barrel, the room seemed to hold its breath. The Russian Roulette game, a grim reminder of Anderson's brutal tactics during the Dallas Incident, was now being played once again, this time against Red.

The commanders and onlookers, both in the room and through the live video feed, watched in suspense as the deadly game unfolded. The metallic clicks of the spinning chamber intertwined. 

Red, pinned to the ground and facing the barrel of the revolver, met Anthony's gaze with unyielding resolve. The final spin of the chamber marked the culmination of their shared history, a history etched in blood and conflict.

The room stood on the precipice of an uncertain fate, waiting for the outcome of this macabre game that held the essence of the Dog's of War's ruthlessness and the lingering shadows of their past.

In a moment of sheer desperation and instinct, Red, fueled by the determination to defy the grim fate of Russian Roulette, swiftly grabbed the sword embedded in his leg. With a primal scream, he wrenched the blade free, the pain adding to the cacophony of anguish in the room.

Seizing the opportunity, Red, still pinned to the ground, unleashed a powerful kick with his left leg, catching Anthony off guard and disrupting his balance. The room echoed with the clash of bodies and the agonized screams of the two.

In a visceral twist of fate, Red, summoning every ounce of strength, managed to thrust the sword through Anthony's stomach. The agonized cries of pain reverberated, creating a chilling symphony that encapsulated the brutality of their confrontation.

As the two screamed in agony, Red, wounded and weakened, attempted to rise. His right leg, still impaled by the sword, refused to bear his weight. Undeterred, Red managed to use his left knee as support, the grim determination etched on his blood-streaked face.

In the aftermath of the brutal struggle, Anthony, with the sword still protruding from his stomach, managed a final gaze at Red. Coughing out blood, he uttered words laden with both pain and a grim acknowledgment.

"Son of a bitch... You... got... me..." Anthony's voice, weakened and fading, resonated through the room. With a final exhale, he succumbed to the wounds, collapsing back to the ground, his eyes slowly closing.

Red, battered and worn, watched as Anthony breathed his last breath. The room, once a battlefield of clashing ideals and relentless conflict, now bore witness to the stillness of death. Red, catching his breath, felt the weight of the encounter settle upon him.

As the echoes of the struggle faded, Red, drained of strength, fell back to the ground. The wounds of the battle, both physical and emotional, took their toll, and Red, still breathing but unconscious, became a silent figure in the aftermath of a confrontation that had laid bare the complexities of war and the indomitable spirit of those caught in its unforgiving grip.

The room, once filled with the discordant symphony of battle, now rested in a haunting silence. The commanders and onlookers, both physically present and witnessing through the live video feed, absorbed the gravity of what had transpired.

Delia, still watching the live transmission, felt a mixture of relief and sorrow. The duel between Red and Anthony, rife with history and unresolved conflicts, had reached its brutal conclusion. The weight of the Dog's of War's actions, both past and present, lingered in the air.

Amidst the aftermath of the intense battle, Doyal, accompanied by his squad, arrived at the scene where the signal was traced. The rhythmic thumping of the chopper blades echoed through the air as they touched down, and the soldiers swiftly secured the area.

Doyal, his expression a mix of concern and determination, held his youngest nephew in his hands. As they approached the location, the medical professionals, working with precision, rushed in to provide aid to Red. Doyal's prayers were a silent plea, hoping against hope that Red would still be alive and could be saved.

The medical team, undeterred by the grim scene, quickly assessed Red's condition. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor provided a glimmer of hope, indicating signs of life. Doyal watched with bated breath as the professionals worked diligently to address Red's wounds, their expertise a beacon in the darkness of uncertainty.

The island, fraught with the echoes of conflict, now became a stage for the delicate dance of life-saving efforts. The soldiers, medical staff, and Doyal, surrounded by the remnants of the battle, collectively held their breath, united in the shared desire to see Red pull through. 

Observing the aftermath of the intense battle, Doyal couldn't help but contemplate the whereabouts of his other nephew, Don, back in the city of Okata. The collective relief spread among the families and high schoolers as the tension gradually eased.

Muller and Graham, having witnessed the intense fight, took a moment to process the magnitude of what they had just seen. Muller, with his distinct German accent, expressed his sentiments, "Jesus, that fight was intense..."

Graham, sharing the sentiment, replied, "Yeah, you can say that again... I have a feeling my family is going to turn this into a perfect action movie. You know what I mean? Seeing how crazy that fight was, how much you want to bet that once we return home, they're going to make a movie out of this."

Muller, however, interjected with a sense of concern, "Well, that's your family, Graham. I'm just glad and concerned about one thing..."

"What's that?" Graham inquired.

"Anthony is now gone, which leaves Anderson... The question is, where is he?" Muller pondered.

"Yeah, good question. Houston wasn't there to assist Red, so the question is... where are the two..." Graham added.

As the parents looked up at the top of the construction building, where construction had been postponed during the war games, a collective gasp swept through the crowd. Someone pointed upward, exclaiming, "OH MY GOD!"

Meanwhile, Houston lay on the ground on one of the construction buildings, hearing the intercom of the officials calling for all former Vermont Tankery Academy boys to surrender.

"Enough! Stop this pointless fighting! This is no war!" the officials proclaimed.

Houston, still with blurry vision, noticed Commander Anderson overlooking the crowd on the ground. Hearing the groans from Houston, Anderson turned to acknowledge him, his back against Houston.

"Rise and shine, Houston... Look... The war is over..." Anderson stated.

"Why... You could've stopped me and Red..." Houston's voice weakened.

"Stopped you? Why would I want to do that? This is just as I hoped things would end," Anderson declared, turning to face Houston on the ground.

"Do you know why I caused this? To be free... Free from everything: the governments, the system, and this world's horrible ways... Our minds free from their prisons. That is the true era I yearn for," Anderson explained as he slowly approached Houston.

Lifting Houston's head, Anderson produced a syringe and injected it into Houston's neck. After finishing the first injection, he grabbed another, repeating the process. The boost of energy coursed through Houston's veins as Anderson released his hold, allowing Houston to slowly rise to his knees.

"This is it, Houston... Our final moment... The battle has ended... But we are not yet free!" Anderson declared, stepping away as Houston struggled to regain his composure.

"Our war is over... But... we still have a score to settle," Anderson proclaimed, leaving an air of uncertainty lingering between them.

On his feet once more, Houston and Anderson entered their final confrontation, ready to settle the score. The tension in the air was palpable as Anderson taunted Houston, urging him to show what he was made of.

"Show me what you got, Former Vice Commander!" Anderson bellowed.

Houston, fueled by determination, launched the first punch. However, Anderson, with swift reflexes, seized the opportunity, grabbing Houston's fist and effortlessly sending him to the ground. The impact reverberated through the air as Anderson capitalized on the advantage, landing punches.

Undeterred, Houston swiftly rolled away, regaining his footing. The two commanders, locked in their fighting stances, faced off once again. Anderson initiated his next attack, but Houston, learning from the previous exchanges, anticipated the move. With precision, Houston countered, throwing Anderson to the floor.

Quick to recover, Anderson sprang back up, refusing to yield. He retaliated with another punch, but this time, Houston intercepted the attack, catching Anderson's fist and pinning it behind his back. Anderson, displaying his own resilience, managed to elbow his way free, creating a momentary distance between them.

The dance of combat continued, each move a testament to the battles they had fought and the unresolved conflicts between them. As the two commanders clashed in their final confrontation, the outcome remained uncertain, shrouded in the echoes of their shared history and the pursuit of a freedom that eluded them both.

In a swift and unexpected move, Anderson employed his knees, driving them into Houston's stomach and forcing him to the ground. The sudden attack caught Houston off guard, but his resilience prevailed as he swiftly rose to his feet, ready for the next exchange.

Not content with a conventional fight, Anderson revealed a syringe, injecting its contents into his neck. This mysterious act left Houston momentarily perplexed. Shedding his trench coat, Anderson exposed his old Vermont Commander combat uniform, signaling a shift in the intensity of the confrontation.

With newfound vigor, Anderson closed the distance between them, launching a barrage of punches towards Houston's upper body. Houston, determined to withstand the assault, blocked as many blows as he could. The clash intensified as Anderson landed some hits, but Houston, drawing on his own strength, retaliated with a series of powerful punches and kicks.

Amidst the fierce exchange, Houston executed a backhand punch, followed by a roundhouse kick that connected with Anderson's face. The momentum shifted, with Houston gaining the upper hand. However, before he could capitalize on his advantage, Anderson countered with a quick catch, initiating a grueling struggle.

The two commanders locked in a screaming struggle, a cacophony of pain and determination echoing between them. In a final act, Anderson slammed Houston to the ground, delivering a punishing elbow strike to his face. The intensity of their battle reached its zenith, leaving both commanders battered and bruised, the outcome still hanging in the balance.

The relentless assault from Anderson continued, each punch driving Houston further into the ground. The brutality of their fight unfolded, unbeknownst to them that their struggle was being broadcast to the entire city. Spectators, including Muller, Graham, Darjeeling, Maho, Miho, Katyusha, Kay, Elijah, Welsey, Jefferson, Dean, Joey, Colton, Scott, Troy, Machine, Grant, and many others, watched in tense anticipation.

Shiho Nishizumi, aware of the dangerous reputation of Houston's former commander, observed the live video with a somber understanding. Maho, feeling a mixture of concern and helplessness, clutched the necklace that Houston had given her months ago, a symbol of their connection.

As the Davy Crockett High School boys stood witness to their Commander's struggle, Anderson, seemingly relentless, continued his onslaught. However, a shift occurred when Houston, summoning his remaining strength, made a decisive move. In a surprising turn of events, he seized the syringe Anderson was holding, injecting its contents into his own neck.

The struggle intensified as the two commanders grappled for control. Houston, driven by a surge of determination, managed to dislocate Anderson's index finger and kicked him away. Seizing the opportunity, Houston took the syringe, injecting its remaining contents. The confrontation reached a pivotal moment, the outcome uncertain as the effects of the injected substance played out, leaving both commanders on the precipice of a decisive resolution.

Slowly rising to his feet, Anderson gritted his teeth, maneuvering his broken finger back into place. Houston, catching his breath, mustered the strength for one final battle cry that echoed through the surroundings.

"ANDERSON!" Houston bellowed, the intensity of his voice reverberating.

"HOUSTON!" Anderson roared in response, their shouts intertwining in a clash of wills.

On their feet once more, Houston launched a powerful roundhouse kick, initiating a relentless series of attacks. Anderson, undeterred, retaliated with his own strikes. The onlookers, including Muller, Graham, Darjeeling, Maho, Miho, Katyusha, Kay, Elijah, Welsey, Jefferson, Dean, Joey, Colton, Scott, Troy, Machine, Grant, and countless others, watched as the two old enemies exchanged blows.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WiNr9cx3iWs

The atmosphere crackled with tension as the confrontation unfolded, the outcome hanging in the balance. The city, witnessing the culmination of a long-standing rivalry, held its breath as the two commanders clashed, their movements reflecting the echoes of their shared history and the weight of their individual struggles. The fight continued, a dance of combat that seemed to transcend the immediate physical exchange, reaching into the depths of their shared past and the uncertain future that awaited them both.

As Houston and Anderson relentlessly exchanged punches, kicks, and blocks, their movements became a rhythmic dance of combat. The two commanders, locked in a fierce struggle, delivered blows to each other's ribs, faces, and every available opening.

With a simultaneous punch to each other's ribs, they created enough space for a brief respite. As they closed in, their foreheads pressed together, both commanders breathed heavily, the weight of their shared history evident in the air. In a final, desperate move, they headbutted each other, the impact resonating through the silent battlefield, and both fell to their knees.

Clutching their syringes, dropped during the intense exchange, Houston and Anderson seized the opportunity. They injected each other with the mysterious substance, screams of revitalized energy filling the air. Slowly rising, still gripping each other, they staggered backward, discarding the now-empty syringes.

The moment mirrored a haunting flashback, echoing the stand-off three years prior in the burning base of Vermont Tankery Academy HQ during the Dallas incident. The thunderous sound emphasized the gravity of their confrontation, as Houston and Anderson, fueled by renewed strength, faced each other once again in a battle that seemed destined to repeat itself.

(Phase 1 Began Encounter From MGS 1) 

In the midst of the burning base, Houston seized the initiative, delivering a powerful punch to Anderson's ribs. Capitalizing on the momentum, he executed a shoulder throw, sending Anderson sprawling to the ground.

"What the!" Anderson exclaimed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in their confrontation.

Houston wasted no time, quickly mounting Anderson and landing a series of punches. Each blow reverberated through the air, a testament to the intensity of their battle. With a final punch, Houston disengaged, allowing Anderson to rise to his feet. Despite the chaos surrounding them, a fierce smile adorned Anderson's face, relishing the exhilaration of the ongoing clash amid the backdrop of the burning base.

Amidst the inferno, the intensity of the hand-to-hand combat between Houston and Anderson escalated. The crackling flames cast eerie shadows across their faces as they circled each other, the air thick with tension.

In a swift motion, Houston lunged forward, delivering a barrage of punches to Anderson's torso. Each strike was met with resilience, but Houston's relentless assault kept Anderson on the defensive. Seizing an opening, Houston executed a precise shoulder throw, sending Anderson crashing to the ground.

As Anderson grunted upon impact, Houston capitalized on the opportunity, quickly mounting him. The heat of the flames intensified, mirroring the fervor of their battle. Houston's fists blurred in a symphony of strikes, connecting with Anderson's face and body. The rhythmic thuds echoed through the burning base, punctuating the clash of wills.

Anderson, displaying both tenacity and cunning, managed to block some of the blows, his experience evident in the calculated way he defended against Houston's onslaught. With a burst of strength, Anderson countered, attempting to shift the momentum. The two commanders, locked in a primal struggle, showcased their skill and determination in every movement.

Breaking free from the ground engagement, Houston and Anderson rose to their feet simultaneously. The flames danced around them, casting an ominous glow. Anderson, his smile undiminished, embraced the chaos of battle, while Houston, fueled by determination, prepared for the next exchange. The flashback fight unfolded with each punch, kick, and block, adding layers to the longstanding rivalry between the two commanders.

As the battle raged on in the burning remnants of the base, Anderson, undeterred by the physical toll, rose from the ground with a confident smirk. The flames reflected in his eyes as he taunted Houston.

"Is that all you've got, Houston?" Anderson goaded, his voice carrying a mocking tone. "I expected more from the so-called 'Spector of Death.'"

Houston, gritting his teeth, narrowed his eyes at Anderson's provocation. Without uttering a word, he launched himself forward, fists poised for another assault. The two commanders engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand exchange, their movements a dance of calculated strikes and evasions.

Anderson continued his taunts, each word a calculated barb aimed at Houston's pride. "You were always the weak link, Houston. No wonder you ended up here, fighting in the ashes of your past failures."

The insults fueled Houston's determination, intensifying the ferocity of his attacks. The flames illuminated their clash, casting long shadows on the charred ground. Houston, driven by a mix of anger and resolve, sought to prove Anderson wrong with each punch and kick.

Anderson, however, reveled in the psychological warfare, using his taunts as a means to distract and destabilize Houston. "You couldn't even protect your own brother. What makes you think you can win against me?"

The words hung in the air as the two commanders continued their brutal exchange. The burning base bore witness to a battle not only of physical prowess but also of mental fortitude, as Houston sought to silence the taunts and prove his worth in the fiery crucible of combat.

In the midst of Anderson's taunts, Houston's frustration reached its peak. Fuelled by a surge of determination, he unleashed a barrage of strikes, each punch carrying the weight of his suppressed anger. The rhythm of their hand-to-hand combat intensified, the flames flickering in response to the escalating violence.

In a moment of sheer power, Houston landed a brutal punch square on Anderson's jaw. The force of the impact reverberated through both commanders, momentarily silencing the taunts and insults. Anderson, caught off guard by the sudden ferocity, staggered backward, his smirk replaced by a momentary expression of shock.

The burning base bore witness to the culmination of their years-long rivalry as the two commanders, locked in a final, decisive clash, were propelled back to the present. The transition from the intense flashback to the present unfolded in a split second, leaving the onlookers, including the gathered high schoolers and officials, in awe of the spectacle.

With a swift motion, Anderson rose to his feet, wiping away the blood that trickled from the corner of his mouth. The flames flickered in the background, casting an ominous glow on his determined expression. Clenching his right fist, he signaled his refusal to yield, a silent declaration that the battle was far from over.

(Phase 2 Tanker Incident MGS 2)

In a swift maneuver, Houston seized the opportunity, pinning Anderson's right arm behind his back. With calculated force, he slammed Anderson's head against a metal pipe, each impact echoing the intensity of their rivalry. Houston then unleashed a flurry of punches, a testament to the pent-up frustration and years of contention.

As the barrage continued, Anderson, resilient as ever, endured the assault. In a moment of counterattack, he threw a quick punch, forcing Houston to block and retaliate with his signature combination of hits and a roundhouse kick. The exchange unfolded with breathtaking speed, the combatants locked in a dance of brutality and determination.

Anderson, refusing to yield, quickly rose to his feet, delivering a powerful hook that sent Houston sprawling. Undeterred, Houston regained his footing, the two commanders once again facing each other with a silent acknowledgment that the battle was far from its conclusion.

Amidst the backdrop of the intense battle between Houston and Anderson, the gathered high schoolers and spectators below were captivated by the spectacle unfolding in the burning city. Murmurs of amazement and awe rippled through the crowd, each observer processing the raw power and history embedded in every punch and kick exchanged between the two commanders.

Graham, standing among his peers, couldn't help but express his amazement. "This is like something out of a movie! I never thought our tankery adventures would lead to this kind of showdown."

Muller, nodding in agreement, added, "It's intense, alright. But there's more to it than just a brawl. You can feel the weight of their history in every move. This isn't just a fight; it's a reckoning."

Darjeeling, with her usual composed demeanor, observed, "The unresolved conflicts between those two are reaching their climax. It's a clash of ideals, pride, and a shared past. Such a complex spectacle."

Maho, silently watching the battle, remarked, "This is a fight that has been brewing for years. The culmination of choices, regrets, and the paths they've chosen. It's almost poetic."

As the commanders clashed onscreen, the high schoolers shared glances, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. Miho, deep in thought, couldn't help but clutch the necklace Houston had given her, a silent gesture of hope and concern.

Katyusha, with a steely gaze, commented, "They're fighting not just for victory but to settle something deep within themselves. A fight like this is beyond a mere competition."

Meanwhile, the officials and parents, witnessing the spectacle from a distance, exchanged worried glances. Shiho Nishizumi, chairwoman of the Federation Sensha Do, and Delia Houston, chairwoman of the American Tankery League, shared a moment of silent understanding, recognizing the profound impact this battle would have on the future of tankery.

As the clash between Houston and Anderson continued, the onlookers remained entranced, recognizing that this was more than a physical confrontation – it was a culmination of emotions, choices, and a shared past that would shape the outcome of their lives. 

The cheers and shouts of encouragement echoed through the group of Tankers and Rangers from Davy Crockett High as they fervently watched the intense confrontation between Commander Houston and Anderson. The camaraderie among them intensified, and their collective hope fueled a sense of unity.

"Don't Give up Boss!"

"Come on Boss! Don't lose this fight!"

The encouragement from the Tankers and Rangers resonated with the spirit of determination, each shout a testament to their unwavering support for Commander Houston. Among them, Jefferson, the Vice Commander, and Sergeant Dean, third in command, joined the chorus of voices, rallying behind their leader.

Amidst the uproar, the scene unfolded as Houston, driven by the collective energy of his supporters, slammed Anderson against the unforgiving metal pipe. However, Anderson, displaying his own resilience, swiftly broke free from Houston's grip, initiating a dynamic shift in their positions.

In a surprising turn, Houston found himself pinned as Anderson unleashed a barrage of punches and headbutts. The Davy Crockett boys watched with bated breath, their cheers momentarily dampened. Yet, Houston, fueled by the collective spirit of his comrades, managed to break free from the hold, determined to continue the fight.

Houston, with a renewed surge of energy, unleashed a rapid series of punches, aiming for Anderson's midsection. The resounding impact echoed through the desolate surroundings, emphasizing the sheer force behind each blow. Anderson, displaying a fluidity in his movements, skillfully evaded some of the punches, showcasing his agility.

In retaliation, Anderson retaliated with a swift combination of jabs and hooks. Houston, drawing upon his combat experience, adeptly blocked and parried the strikes, demonstrating a seamless blend of offense and defense. The air crackled with tension as the commanders traded blows, their movements a testament to years of rivalry and shared history.

The onlookers below, including the Tankers and Rangers, were enraptured by the display of skill and determination. Each punch thrown and blocked resonated with the unspoken emotions underlying their conflict. The burning city served as a grim backdrop to this visceral contest, where the clash of fists symbolized the unresolved tensions and choices that had defined their intertwined destinies.

As the commanders continued their relentless exchange, the fight evolved into a mesmerizing display of martial prowess, a dance of conflict echoing with the weight of their shared past. 

Anderson quickly grabbed Houston's arm, attempting to throw him to the ground. However, that attempt proved futile, as Houston executed a short flip, landing gracefully on his feet. To everyone's surprise, Anderson mirrored the move, showcasing an unexpected agility that matched Houston's.

As the two commanders found themselves momentarily separated, Anderson gestured toward Houston and finally spoke, their fighting stances still maintained.

"Come on, Don... Let's make this our best final moment," Anderson said, the weight of their shared history lingering in the air.

(Finally Phase 3 Snake Eater MGS 3)

Anderson lunged forward with a rapid flurry of strikes, his movements a seamless blend of calculated precision and unpredictable flair. Houston countered with a well-timed block, their fists meeting in a clash that resonated through the silent air. 

 "What a thrill, with darkness and silence through the night..." 

Houston retaliated with a spinning kick, the arc of his movement guided by a determination that went beyond the confines of the fight. Anderson, equally driven, evaded the kick with a nimble sidestep, seamlessly transitioning into a counterattack.

"I'm searching and I'll melt into you..." 

The commanders, locked in combat, exchanged blows and evasive maneuvers, their movements choreographed by a destiny that had intertwined their fates. The fighting ground became a stage, each strike a poignant note in the symphony of their shared history.

 "What a fear in my heart, but you're so supreme!" 

Houston's resolve burned brightly, fueled by the support of his comrades and the weight of his responsibilities. Anderson, driven by a vision of liberation, fought with a fervor that reflected his unyielding pursuit of freedom.

As Anderson attempted a chokehold from behind, aiming to cut off Houston's oxygen, Houston swiftly countered by elbowing Anderson, breaking free from the hold. The two commanders, undeterred, continued their relentless exchange.

In a synchronized display of resilience, they simultaneously landed punches to each other's faces, their fists meeting in a clash that echoed through the battleground.

 "I give my life, not for honor, but for you..." 

Houston seized the advantage, sending Anderson to the floor. Straddling his fallen opponent, he unleashed a barrage of three punches before gracefully disengaging. As Anderson gasped for air, Houston delivered a final blow to his stomach, leaving him momentarily breathless.

 "In my time, there'll be no one else..." 

Anderson, displaying unwavering determination, fought against the pain and fatigue, rising to his feet once more. The lyrics mirrored the depth of their struggle, encapsulating the singular focus that defined their rivalry.

Crime, it's the way I fly to you (snake eater)

The commanders, locked in a dance of combat, embodied the lyrics with each move, their actions symbolizing the enduring spirit of their confrontation. The cityscape, now engulfed in flames, provided a surreal backdrop to this final clash.

As Houston and Anderson faced each other, the lyrics resonated with the profound nature of their conflict

"I'm still in a dream, snake eater!.."

The intensity of the fight reached new heights as Anderson's headbutt temporarily staggered Houston. They resumed their exchange, each blow and kick showcasing the culmination of years of rivalry. Houston skillfully evaded Anderson's punches and kicks, retaliating with precise strikes that sent Anderson off his feet.

Someday you go through the rain..

 Someday you feed on a tree frog

Undeterred, Anderson swiftly rose,.. determination burning in his eyes. "Take this!" he shouted, attempting to flip over Houston. However, Houston mirrored the move, countering Anderson's maneuver. The two commanders engaged in a seemingly choreographed display of acrobatics, attempting to pin each other behind the back.

It's ordeal, the trial to survive

For the day we see new light

Their efforts resulted in a clash of elbows, ribs, and faces, each strike resonating with the struggle that defined their long-standing rivalry. The cityscape, now a chaotic backdrop, witnessed their relentless dance—a testament to the complex history that bound them together.

The exchange of punches and kicks intensified, creating a dynamic spectacle of skill and determination. Houston unleashed three rapid punches, but Anderson skillfully dodged each one. Seizing the opportunity, Houston attempted a powerful roundhouse kick, only for Anderson to duck beneath it.

I give my life

Not for honor, but for you (snake eater)

In my time, there'll be no one else

With lightning-fast reflexes, Anderson seized Houston by the neck, slamming him forcefully to the ground. The impact echoed through the battleground as Anderson asserted his dominance. "Time to die!" he declared, delivering a punishing punch to Houston's stomach.

Crime, it's the way I fly to you (snake eater)

I'm still in a dream, snake eater

Despite the pain, Houston summoned the strength to rise once more. The relentless exchange continued, both commanders giving their all. In a decisive moment, Houston seized hold of Anderson, locking onto him with unwavering determination. With a resounding headbutt, Houston momentarily shifted the momentum in his favor, leaving both commanders battered but unyielding. The city, now consumed by flames, bore witness to the climax of their enduring conflict.

(Final Phase Old Snake MGS 4)

In the aftermath of their relentless exchange, Houston and Anderson found themselves staggering back, their bodies pushed to the limits. Collapsing to the ground, they felt the cool wind brushing against their battered forms. As they caught their breath, both commanders slowly rose, locking eyes with an unwavering determination.Glaring at Houston, Anderson spat blood defiantly. "It's not over yet!" he declared, a testament to the relentless spirit that fueled their rivalry.

Approaching each other once more, Houston and Anderson engaged in a final bout of punches. The blows reverberated through the air as the commanders exchanged powerful strikes. Anderson, despite his resilience, found himself stumbling backward, tripping on his own feet.

Breathing heavily, Houston pressed on, delivering punch after punch. The force of each blow resonated with determination, causing Anderson to groan in pain. With unwavering resolve, Houston's relentless assault forced Anderson to his knees, blood staining the ground beneath him.

The city, now consumed by the chaos of their battle, bore witness to the climax of a rivalry that had spanned years. The echoes of their struggles lingered in the air, a testament to the indomitable will that defined their clash.

As Anderson struggled to maintain his stance, Houston, fueled by determination, landed a decisive punch that sent Anderson reeling. Breathing heavily, Anderson fought to stay on his feet, eventually dropping to his knees. Gasping for breath, he delivered a cryptic message to Houston.

"You know, you're lucky to defeat me, Don. This is only the beginning for you. There are other S-Rank commanders back in the States, and they'll be coming for you after hearing what happened here. If you think I'm bad, you're just plain wrong," Anderson declared, his words laden with ominous implications.

"Just hope one day you've trained your men, your Rangers, for this upcoming threat. Because he is being supported by a group that was supporting me," Anderson cryptically warned.

"Who?" Houston inquired, seeking answers.

"I've said too much. All I can say is I failed... for what I tried to do," Anderson confessed, his strength waning. As he collapsed to the ground, his face turned toward Houston. With his last ounces of energy, Anderson raised both hands, struggling to speak his final words.

"You're... You're... You're Pretty Good," he uttered, the phrase echoing with a sense of familiarity for Houston.

"You're Pretty Good

"... Pretty... Good." 

As the helicopter hovered above, Doyal, Houston's uncle, shouted through the intercom, attempting to get Houston's attention. Still fixated on Anderson's lifeless body, Houston remained silent. The scene transitioned back to the ground, revealing the JSDF and U.S. National Guards arresting the former Vermont Tankery Academy boys.

The helicopter carrying Houston descended as Doyal and Houston stepped out onto the ground. The chaotic scene of arrests and security forces filled the area. Ignoring the medics, Houston reassured his family that he was okay.

Delia rushed forward, enveloping Houston in a tight embrace, a mix of relief, worry, and concern evident on her face. Doyal, Houston's uncle, joined in the embrace, showing his own mix of emotions.

After the heartfelt moment with his family, Houston observed the group of former Vermont Tankery Academy boys being led away for sentencing. Unexpectedly, they saluted him, a sign of respect. Houston, in return, raised his hand in a salute, acknowledging their actions. The air was thick with mixed emotions and the aftermath of a tumultuous battle.

"Uncle Doyal... Those boys I'm saluting did absolutely nothing wrong. They were following orders from a man they believed in. Please pardon them for their crimes and let them join me and my high school team. They need a leader they can count on," Houston earnestly conveyed to his uncle.

Doyal looked at Houston, a mix of understanding and contemplation on his face. He then nodded slowly, acknowledging Houston's request.

"I'll do what I can, Houston. But it won't be easy. There are procedures, investigations, and legalities involved. I can't promise anything, but I'll advocate on their behalf," Doyal replied, his voice reflecting the weight of the situation.

Houston nodded appreciatively, understanding the complexities involved. The former Vermont Tankery Academy boys, once his adversaries, were now looking to him for guidance and support. The path ahead seemed challenging, but Houston was determined to help them find redemption and a new purpose.

As Houston was alone for a moment, he then turned to one side to see Maho staring at him. Walking towards her, the two shared a brief hug, but Houston groaned in pain a bit.

"Woah, easy... Took a good punch in the rib there," Houston said.

"Right, sorry..." Maho replied. The two stayed silent until she spoke up, holding the letter she had in her hand.

"Don... This letter you wrote and left for me... Is it true? Of what you said..." Maho asked.

Houston took one deep breath as he looked down and answered Maho's question.

"Yes... I'll always have people after me, and that's why we can't be together," Houston said.

Feeling the weight of Maho's emotions, Houston understood the gravity of his decision. Maho's eyes betrayed a mix of hurt and understanding, and in that moment, she handed him the necklace that had been around her neck. The once precious memento now seemed like a burden.

"You always had a way with words, Houston... making it sound like you were protecting me, but perhaps it was just a trick to keep me having feelings for you," Maho said, her voice revealing the turmoil within.

Houston's eyes met hers, reflecting the sincerity of his feelings. "Maho, it was never a trick. I care about you more than you know, but my life is a danger to those around me. I can't risk bringing that into your world," Houston explained, his tone heavy with regret.

She nodded, a single tear escaping her eye. "You always were a yankee with a heart of gold, Don Houston."

As Maho handed him back the necklace, Houston felt the weight of their unspoken connection. Their paths diverged, and the pain of separation lingered in the air.

She left Houston alone, tears in her eyes, and despite his instinct to call her back, he respected her decision. As Maho walked away, Houston couldn't shake the weight of the moment.

In the distance, a young boy observed the scene through binoculars, a sinister smile playing on his lips. Lowering the binoculars, he spoke with a voice filled with malice, "It seems you finally broke away from my future bride, Houston. This complicates things between my family and the Nishizumi family, with our arranged wedding. This will be my revenge for the comrades you killed."

The boy then removed a fake face mask, revealing his true identity. Stripping off the fake Davy Crockett Ranger uniform, he exposed the Old Vermont Tankery Academy insignia underneath.

"No one noticed me amidst the chaos. It's a shame, but now they'll know—the last one standing, the Laughter Jester," he declared with a chilling tone.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rM06FvnvLIg

A/N Final Chapters will be release soon I'll be posting two epilogue ending parts to close wrap this story up.... Also WOOO! This chapter was very long to write Which I'm so glad it coming to an end ... I hope you all like this chapter ending as you guys stick around waiting to see how it all end thank you guys for your support and I will see you all in the next one also enjoy this chapter credit music

1918- Battle Reactment America Assocation was created at the end of WW1

1938- Doyal Houston was born the first son of Andrew Houston making him the first Heir of the Houston Name

1942- Vince Houston (Don and Red Father) was born the second son of Andrew Houston 

1956- Doyal Houston earn the Nickname Second Napolon of the West for winning 45th Assocation Champsion 

1965- Doyal was drafted in Vietnam and the start when American troops enter Vietnam War

1975- America Troops pulls out Vietnam which Doyal son was later born Leonadro making him the heir of the Houston name

1991- Soviet Union fall as the berlin wall was torn down Gulf war has ended 

2XXX- Don Houston was born marking him the first son of Vince Houston later on Red was born two years later

2XXX- Leonadro Houston was killed in active duty forcing Doyal Houston pull out in Afghanstan 

2XXX: The Dallas Incident....  Red Houston was Killed Vermont Tankery Academy was shut down along with Battle Reactment America Assocation was shut down almost ending Tankery in America

2XXX America Tankery League was made... Dallas Incident memorial was built Don Houston earned the title The Dallas Incident hero... Red Houston was revived by [Redacted] and escaped 

Present:  The Oshima Island Incident....