Three Years ago before the Incident

It was a busy day in the office for the Battle Reenactment America Association, and many staff members were planning one of the big events scheduled for Dallas. While people were diligently working, the door of the director's office suddenly opened, causing everyone to pause in their tasks. It was Vince Houston, the Director of the Association, dressed in a nice suit and carrying a briefcase filled with numerous documents.

Witnessing his entrance, the staff members returned to their work, leaving the Director alone in his office. After a productive day, he left the office building and headed home. Following a lengthy drive, he pulled up to a splendid household with the Houston family nameplate on the front gate, blocking the driveway. Seated at the back, Vince was engrossed in reading the documents when the passenger side door opened, and a Butler's voice spoke up.

"Welcome back home, Sir," the Butler said, holding the car door open for Vince to exit.

"Thank you, Brewster," Vince replied as he stepped out of the car.

Brewster closed the car door behind Vince, who took a moment to stretch before handing over the keys to the waiting butler. The front entrance of the elegant house opened, revealing a warm and well-lit interior.

As Vince stepped into the foyer, he could hear the faint sounds of activity from various parts of the house. The aroma of a home-cooked meal wafted through the air, creating a comforting atmosphere. The butler gestured towards the living room, where a fire crackled in the fireplace.

"Mrs. Houston is in the study, sir. She mentioned she'd like to speak with you," Brewster informed Vince.

"Thank you, Brewster. I'll head there right away," Vince said, making his way towards the study. The study door was slightly ajar, and he gently pushed it open.

Inside, his wife, Emily Houston, was immersed in her own work. The study was adorned with shelves of books, family portraits, and a desk stacked with papers. Emily looked up, a smile brightening her face as she saw Vince.

"Welcome home, dear," she said, rising from her chair and walking over to greet him. They exchanged a brief but affectionate embrace.

"I hope your day at the association went well," Emily inquired, her eyes showing genuine interest.

Vince nodded, "It was a busy one, preparing for the upcoming event in Dallas. But everything is falling into place."

As they settled into a conversation about their respective days, the butler discreetly entered the room, holding a tray with a steaming cup of coffee for Vince. Placing it on the desk, Brewster excused himself, leaving the couple to enjoy a quiet moment together.

The evening continued with the Houston family gathered for dinner, sharing stories and laughter. Despite the demands of his role as the director, Vince cherished these moments with his family, finding solace and support within the walls of his home.

As the family enjoyed their dinner in the refined atmosphere, Vince and Emily donned their ball suits in anticipation of the local charity event hosted by Emily's workplace. However, Vince couldn't help but notice the absence of his older son, Don, from the family table.

"Brewster? Where is Don?" Vince inquired, concern evident in his voice.

"He is in his room, sir, studying and formulating strategies for his battle plan for the upcoming match that Don and Red will be attending," Brewster replied with a slight nod.

Vince sighed knowingly. "Ah, the dedication to Tankery runs deep in our family. Both my sons carrying on the Houston Tankery legacy is something I'm truly proud of. Don, as the Vice Commander in Vermont Tankery Academy, impresses me greatly, especially considering he's only a freshman. And Red, skipping a grade to join his older brother as a Captain pilot, is truly the best of the best—a remarkable Ace pilot."

The room was filled with a sense of familial pride as Vince spoke. The clinking of cutlery against plates continued, punctuating the conversation as the Houston family enjoyed their meal, looking forward to the charity event that awaited them later in the evening.

After finishing their meal, Vince and Emily prepared for the charity event, exchanging smiles as they admired each other's attire. As they were about to leave, Vince made a decision.

"I'll check on Don before we head out," Vince said, excusing himself from the table.

He made his way to Don's room, where the door was slightly ajar. Inside, he found Don hunched over a desk covered with maps, charts, and Tankery strategy manuals. The room was filled with the focused energy of a young strategist deep in thought.

"Don, we're about to leave for the charity event. Are you sure you don't want to join us?" Vince asked, leaning against the doorway.

Don looked up, a mix of determination and regret in his eyes. "I appreciate it, Dad, but I need to finalize these plans for the upcoming match. Red and I want to make sure we're fully prepared."

Vince nodded understandingly. "I'm proud of the dedication you and Red show to Tankery, but don't forget to take breaks and enjoy the present, too."

"I know, Dad. I'll join you guys after I finish up here," Don replied, offering a small smile.

Leaving Don to his work, Vince returned to the family, and they headed to the charity event. The ballroom was adorned with elegance, and the air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. As Vince and Emily socialized with other guests, they couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment, knowing that their family's legacy in Tankery was in capable hands with their two talented sons.

Back to the Present

The snow-covered scene beneath the tree held a tense silence, broken only by the muffled aftermath of the 'Dallas Incident match.' Don and Vince Houston stood facing each other, the weight of the past three years evident in their strained gazes.

Don's glare at his father was palpable, his pistol loaded and aimed with a precision that spoke of extensive training. Vince, aware of the danger, moved cautiously toward his son. The cold air seemed to slow time as father and son found themselves at an impasse.

As Vince approached, attempting to disarm his son, it became apparent that Don was not to be underestimated. His combat training, both on the ground and in tanks, made him a formidable adversary. Despite Vince's efforts, Don held his ground, the gun unwavering in his grip.

In a surprising turn of events, just as Don was about to take his next move, Vince abandoned any notion of confrontation and enveloped his son in a sudden and unexpected hug. Don, taken aback, paused, the pistol now pointing harmlessly at the ground.

Vince's voice, filled with emotion, cut through the frozen air. "Let it go, my son. I'm not here to fight or express disappointment."

Don remained silent, absorbing the unexpected embrace from his father. Vince, tears streaming down his face, continued to hold his firstborn tightly.

"I'm sorry for what has happened. It's time for you to put aside the gun and live, my son," Vince whispered.

With a slow and deliberate motion, Vince moved his hand, gently taking the pistol away from Don. The tension lingered in the air as he carefully unloaded the gun, dropping it into the snow. The symbolic act spoke louder than words, a gesture of reconciliation and an invitation to leave the past behind.

As the cold silence persisted, father and son remained in the quiet embrace beneath the snow-laden branches, the weight of forgiveness and understanding settling between them.

In the midst of the snow-covered stillness, Vince maintained the tight embrace with his son, Don. The air was heavy with unspoken emotions, and the quietude amplified the beating of their hearts.

"I'm sorry, Don," Vince choked out, his voice trembling with genuine remorse. "I'm sorry for leaving you after the Dallas match. I should never have walked away, leaving you to carry the burden alone."

Don, still held in the embrace, felt a mix of confusion and vulnerability. The weight of his father's words began to penetrate the layers of resentment he had built over the years.

"And I'm sorry for what happened to Red and to your mother," Vince continued, the admission causing his grip to tighten. "I should have been there for all of you. Emily didn't harm herself because of you, Don. It was never your fault. I was lost, and I let you believe that I blamed you for everything. I'm so sorry for the pain I caused."

The sincerity in Vince's voice resonated with the raw truth of his feelings. Don, who had kept his emotions guarded for so long, felt a floodgate open within him. The emotions he had suppressed since that fateful incident surged to the surface.

"Don, I love you, and I regret every day that I let our family fall apart," Vince whispered, his tears mingling with the snowflakes on his son's shoulders.

Don, overwhelmed by the weight of the moment, finally let his guard down. He reciprocated the embrace, releasing the tension he had carried for years. The bitterness and resentment melted away as father and son stood in the quiet embrace, surrounded by the hushed beauty of the snow-covered landscape.

Don's eyes widened with a mixture of shock and confusion at his father's revelations. The cold air seemed to cut through the intense emotions that hung between them.

"Why... Why now?" Don repeated, his voice filled with a mix of incredulity and hurt.

"After hearing what happened at the Oshima Island hearing, how you defeated your old Commander again... It just made me think of you and Red," Vince explained, his eyes searching Don's face for any sign of understanding.

Before Don could respond, Vince preempted his son's thoughts. "Yeah, speaking of which, Red... He's alive again. I don't know how he came back to the world of the living, Dad, and—"

"I know. It's because I brought him back to life," Vince interrupted, his voice heavy with the weight of confession. "After the match was over, I couldn't bear to let go of your younger brother. I hired a group of highly trained medical teams to try and revive him, and it worked. I was momentarily happy that I brought Red back alive. But then, when I heard the news of your mother... I blamed you."

The words hung in the air, the admission slicing through the already charged atmosphere. Don's expression shifted from shock to a mixture of sadness and frustration. Vince continued, his voice strained with regret.

"But after Red finally woke up in the healing tank, I realized he only wanted to see you. He escaped the lab and came to you," Vince confessed, his eyes reflecting the pain of the past.

Don, grappling with the sudden revelation, found himself torn between understanding his father's actions and the lingering hurt from years of perceived abandonment. The layers of their complex family history were unraveling, revealing truths that had remained buried for far too long. In the quiet snow-covered landscape, father and son confronted the painful past, attempting to bridge the chasm that had kept them apart for years.

Don's mind raced as he absorbed the revelations, the frigid air mirroring the cold reality of their family's tumultuous history. His gaze met his father's, searching for sincerity in the depths of Vince's eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why keep all of this a secret?" Don's voice quivered with a mixture of anger and anguish.

Vince's shoulders slumped, the weight of regret evident in his expression. "I thought I was protecting you. Protecting both of you. I didn't want you to carry the burden of knowing what I had done, especially after everything with your mother. I was wrong, and I'm so sorry, Don."

The vulnerability in Vince's admission cracked open a door to understanding. Don's anger began to ebb, replaced by a flood of conflicting emotions. He struggled to find words to articulate the whirlwind inside him.

"Don, I know I can't change the past, but I want to make amends. I want to be there for you and Red. I want us to be a family again," Vince pleaded, desperation lining his voice.

Don's gaze softened, torn between the pain of the past and the desire for a better future. The raw honesty in his father's words echoed with the unspoken longing for reconciliation.

"Why now, Dad? After all this time?" Don asked again, his tone softer.

Vince sighed, his breath visible in the crisp air. "I've carried the guilt and regret for too long. Seeing you face your old Commander made me realize how much I've missed. I can't change the past, but I want to be part of your life now. I want to be your father again."

The silence that followed was heavy with the unspoken, the snowfall providing a serene backdrop to their emotional reckoning. Don looked into Vince's eyes, grappling with the complexity of forgiveness and the possibility of rebuilding what was lost.

Finally, Don spoke, his voice a fragile whisper amid the snow-laden stillness, "I need time, Dad. Time to process all of this."

Vince nodded, understanding the gravity of the moment. The snow continued to fall, a quiet witness to the fragile bridge being built between father and son in the aftermath of a long and painful winter.

Before Don could say anything, he felt his heart racing, and his breathing became heavy as he fell to his knees, coughing. This alarmed Vince, who rushed to check on his son. Seeing how tired and weak Don appeared on his knees, Vince watched him with growing concern.

"Don, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Vince asked, his voice filled with worry.

"No... I'm not okay, Dad," Don spoke, breathing heavily, unable to stand on his own two feet. "Ever since I was injected with the gene serum by the Vermont Tankery doctors, they said it would help me heal fast if I got hurt or injured during tank combat. What I didn't know is that Anderson, my old Commander, had something else in mind. He wanted to make sure his trusted person betrayed him. He installed a failsafe serum disguised as the gene serum shot I took from the doctors."

"So you're..." Vince couldn't believe what Don was telling him.

"Yep, I'm slowly dying. In a few moments, I'm going to be dead soon," Don said, his words hanging heavily in the cold air.

The gravity of the revelation hit Vince like a ton of bricks. He knelt beside his son, a mixture of shock and sorrow etched on his face. The falling snowflakes seemed to freeze in time as the reality of the situation unfolded.

"I should have been there for you, Don. I should have known," Vince whispered, his voice choked with regret.

Don managed a weak smile. "It's not your fault, Dad. I didn't want you to know. I didn't want you to carry this burden with me."

Vince, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, cradled his son in his arms. The snow continued to fall gently around them, a silent witness to the profound moment between a father and a son, grappling with the inevitability of loss.

 Don's weak smile faltered, and another fit of coughing wracked his body, each cough sounding like a painful struggle. Vince, unable to bear seeing his son in such agony, felt a surge of desperation. In a swift motion, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small syringe.

"Don, I can't let you go like this," Vince declared, his hands steady but his eyes betraying the fear and anguish within.

Without hesitation, Vince injected the contents of the syringe into Don's arm. The action seemed to freeze the moment, the falling snowflakes suspended in the air as father and son clung to each other in the silent struggle against time.

The seconds felt like an eternity before Don's coughing subsided, and a fragile calm settled over him. Vince held his breath, watching for any sign of improvement.

Don's breathing became steadier, and the color returned to his face, if only slightly. The syringe had provided a momentary reprieve, but the reality of the situation lingered.

"What did you just..." Don began to ask, his voice weak but filled with curiosity.

"It's a temporary measure, Don. It won't fix everything, but it should give us a little more time," Vince explained, his voice breaking with the weight of emotion.

A bittersweet quietude enveloped them as father and son clung to each other amidst the falling snow. The fragile thread of hope lingered, woven with the unspoken acknowledgment that they were facing an uncertain future together.

"More time for me to heal you, my son, so you can live longer. I don't want to see you waste your life fighting the past anymore," Vince said with a determined yet compassionate tone.

Don, still on his feet but weakened, looked at his father with a mix of surprise and gratitude. The weight of his impending fate seemed momentarily lifted by the unexpected hope his father offered.

"I don't want to lose you, just how I lost your mother, Don. I want to see you and Red live your full life," Vince continued, his eyes reflecting a deep well of emotion.

Don, despite the grim circumstances, felt a surge of warmth. The prospect of his father's commitment to saving him brought a glimmer of light into the shadows of despair. The snow continued to fall around them, a silent witness to the poignant exchange between father and son.

"Thank you, Dad," Don whispered, his voice holding a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability.

Vince nodded, his eyes never leaving his son. The unspoken promise to fight for every moment, to defy fate and create a future together, hung in the air. The snowfall, seemingly gentle and serene, concealed the intensity of their shared determination to make the most of the time they had left.

Vince listened intently as Don took a few steps forward, his eyes gazing upward at the cold Dallas sky. The weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future seemed to converge in that moment.

"If I'm going to cure soon from this failsafe that is in me... It may be I should look forward to the future. I've always been looking back in the past, always feeling scared that I will make the same mistake again. But here and now... I guess I could finally bury it here where it all started," Don mused, his words carrying a mixture of resolution and introspection.

As Don looked up at the sky, his thoughts seemed to drift to Maho, the girl he had met and fallen in love with. The necklace she had given him held a profound significance, a token of a connection that transcended time and distance. Don couldn't help but recall the bittersweet memories of their time together.

In a sigh, he confessed to his father, "Dad... I screwed up."

Vince's brow furrowed in concern as he awaited his son's revelation. Don took a moment before continuing, his voice carrying a tinge of regret.

"I missed my chance, Dad. When Maho left, I should've said something. I should've told her how I felt, but I let her go. I know that she has an arranged marriage back on the island, something she didn't have a say in. I let her slip away, and now she's getting married soon," Don admitted, the weight of his words heavy in the quiet snow-covered surroundings.

Vince, absorbing the revelation, placed a hand on Don's shoulder in a gesture of understanding. The snowfall seemed to intensify, as if nature itself acknowledged the profound moments of reflection and revelation beneath the Dallas sky.

"Don, do you really, truly love this girl a lot?" Vince asked, his voice carrying a mix of paternal concern and understanding.

"Yes, Dad... I do," Don affirmed with conviction.

"Well... I have a feeling that she's feeling the same way right now, not wanting to let you go nor stop loving you," Vince reassured, his words carrying a glimmer of hope.

"So, you're saying I have a chance?" Don asked, a spark of optimism in his eyes.

"Well, that you have to ask from herself," Vince replied, offering a gentle smile.

"But how? I'm here back in America while everyone I know is probably coming here or some are staying at the wedding, which is happening in a few weeks. How am I going to get there in time?" Don asked, his desperation evident.

Vince thought for a moment before suggesting, "We'll find a way, Don. Where there's a will, there's a way. If you truly want to be there, we'll make it happen."

Don looked at his father with gratitude, a newfound determination replacing the initial despair. The snowfall seemed to ease as a sense of purpose filled the air.

"Thank you, Dad. I need to go, I need to find a way to get to her," Don said, his steps becoming resolute.

Vince nodded, offering his support. "Go, Don. Chase after what you love. I'll be here, doing everything I can to help you."

As Don left, Vince stood in the quiet snow-covered landscape, his thoughts echoing with the realization that love, even in the face of challenges, could be a powerful force that transcends time and distance.

Back on the island, the preparations for the wedding were in full swing. Half of the American school contingent had bid their goodbyes and headed back to the United States, leaving behind students from Grand Lake High School and North High School who had chosen to stay and witness the special occasion.

In one of the rooms, Maho found herself alone, surrounded by the wedding dress that she and Erika had picked out. She stared at the elegant gown for what felt like hours, her thoughts drifting back to a certain someone.

Ever since the day they met, Don had left an indelible mark on Maho. Their journey through the war games, facing challenges and overcoming odds together, had created a bond that transcended expectations. Maho couldn't help but think about him, his bravery, and the moments they shared.

Lost in her thoughts, Maho sighed, her expression reflecting a mix of emotions. Outside the window, she could see some friends staying behind, eagerly awaiting the upcoming wedding.

A knock on the door interrupted her contemplation, and she heard Shiho's voice.

"Maho, are you okay in there?" Shiho asked, gently opening the door.

"Yes, Mother... I'm alright. It's just... Do you really think this boy Jaime is the one?" Maho inquired, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.

Shiho stepped into the room, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Maho, only time will tell. Love is a complex thing, and sometimes it takes unexpected forms. If he makes you happy and you can see a future together, that's what matters."

Maho nodded, absorbing her mother's wisdom. The island breeze rustled the curtains as the two women shared a moment of understanding in the midst of the upcoming celebration.

As Shiho looked at Maho, a flicker of doubt passed across her face. She hesitated before speaking, her voice softer than before.

"Maho, I want you to know that... I've had doubts about this arrangement," Shiho admitted, her eyes searching Maho's for understanding.

Maho's eyebrows furrowed in surprise. Her mother, who had always seemed unyielding, was revealing a vulnerability that Maho had rarely seen. Intrigued, she gestured for Shiho to continue.

"I forced you into this arrangement in the past, believing it was the best for the family and our traditions. But as time passes, I've questioned if it was the right decision," Shiho confessed, her gaze averted.

Maho listened intently, realizing that beneath Shiho's composed exterior, there existed a mother grappling with her own choices and the consequences they held for her daughter.

"I can't undo the decisions I've made, Maho. But I want you to be happy. If this arrangement doesn't bring you joy, I need to know," Shiho said, her words genuine and sincere.

"I know... But since it my duty to continue the Nishizumi name I will do it..." Maho said as she still looking out the window.

"So, we're heading out?" Dean asked, his voice carrying a sense of readiness.

In the scene, half of Davy Crockett High School's boys were making their preparations to depart. They gathered, waiting for the second carrier that would transport them back to their home state of Texas in America.

"Yeah, we are. Since Commander Houston isn't here with us, it's my job as Vice Commander to sort this out," Jefferson confirmed, his demeanor reflecting the responsibility that fell upon his shoulders.

"Hm... Well, we surely did have our fun here on this island... It sucks that the League is forcing us to return home when my older brother isn't around," Red remarked. He appeared fully recovered, the four weeks in the recovery list for his leg injury now behind him.

As the group of boys prepared to leave the island, a mix of nostalgia and the anticipation of returning home lingered in the air. The memories of their time on the island, the battles fought, and the camaraderie shared formed a chapter that would remain etched in their minds as they prepared to move forward.

"What do you mean I'm not around," Houston said, surprising Jefferson, Dean, Red, and the remaining boys. The sight of their commander, who they hadn't seen in weeks, standing before them elicited a mix of shock and curiosity.

"Houston, where the hell were you? We haven't seen you in weeks," Jefferson exclaimed, his frustration evident.

"I had some business that I had to take care of, Jefferson. Besides, what happened to the rest of our guys?" Houston inquired, his attention shifting to the whereabouts of their comrades.

"They went home using the first carrier. Now we're waiting for the second carrier to take us home," Dean explained.

Houston, however, had different plans. "Well, I'm not going just yet. Not until I stop what Maho is going to do," he declared, taking a couple of steps away and staring in the direction of the wedding.

"What? You dated Maho before?" Jefferson joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

Houston remained silent, prompting Jefferson to stop laughing as he realized the gravity of the situation. The revelation that Houston had a history with Maho caught them off guard.

"Wait, you actually dated her?!" Jefferson spoke up, his eyes widening in disbelief. The unexpected twist added a layer of complexity to their current predicament, leaving the group grappling with the implications of Houston's connection to Maho.

"Yeah, we had a history. But that's not important right now. What matters is that Maho is making a decision, and I can't let her do something she might regret," Houston explained, his tone serious and determined.

"Look I'm not asking much you guy's could return to our state including you little brother if you want. You guys risked everything so much that I have no right to asked you... You either wait here for that second carrier or you can help me crash that wedding." Houston said

The unexpected show of support from the remaining members of the group, each expressing their commitment to stand by Houston's side, brought a sense of unity and determination.

"I'm with you, Houston," Dean declared.

"Me too," Ben chimed in, walking up to stand next to Dean.

"Don't forget us, sir," Sean added, joined by Hector, Gus, and the rest of the Rangers.

Jefferson, despite his earlier reservations, sighed and acknowledged, "Even though we've been through a lot, we will follow to the end, Houston."

Red, Don's younger brother, stepped forward and softly spoke, "You know I will stick by your side, older brother," hitting Don's shoulder in a gesture of solidarity.

"Thank you, guys," Houston expressed his gratitude.

As they pondered the challenge ahead, Dean raised a valid concern about the lack of weapons or tanks for defense. However, the arrival of a familiar tank interrupted their discussion, and Houston's smile widened at the sight of his fully repaired Sherman M4A3E8 'Lone Star.' The crew, including Scott, Grant, Troy, and 'Machine,' popped their heads out of the hatches.

"Well... We got a tank," Houston declared, a spark of determination in his eyes.

The group gathered around the tank, a sense of camaraderie and purpose uniting them. With 'Lone Star' now operational, they had a powerful ally as they prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead and disrupt Maho's wedding plans. The snow-covered landscape bore witness to their resolve, setting the stage for a daring confrontation.

As the 'Laughing Jester' donned his groom suit, a sinister smile played on his lips. He reveled in the success of his elaborate plan, having spied on Don Houston and Maho Nishizumi during their past relationship. Now, with Maho about to become his wife, he anticipated not only claiming her forever but also devastating Houston, the man responsible for the destruction of Vermont Tankery Academy and the demise of their old squad.

Before he could fully assume his fake persona, the door swung open, and four of the 'Jester's' friends entered the room. Three boys and one girl gazed at their friend as he prepared for the wedding.

"Is everything in place?" the 'Jester' inquired.

"Yes, everything is in place. The League and the Federation are oblivious to our plans," the girl confirmed.

"Including the high schoolers, especially Commander Graham and Muller. They don't suspect anything is wrong," one of the boys added.

"Good. And what about The Boss?" Jester asked.

"Don Houston? Well, we haven't seen him yet, nor do we know where he is. I have to say, he knows how to cover his tracks really well," another boy explained.

"Dude, there's a reason why he was formerly the Vice Commander of Vermont Tankery Academy," the third boy added.

"The good news is he's not here. Once I marry the Nishizumi, we can move on to phase two of our plan to revive Commander Anderson's dream. Now that the wedding is about to start, let's continue playing our roles," Jester declared. He then put on his fake face mask and altered his voice, assuming the identity of Jaime Hunter.

As the 'Jester' prepared to deceive everyone in attendance, the wedding ceremony was about to unfold, unaware of the dark intentions that lurked beneath the surface.

Downstairs, the wedding venue exuded an air of anticipation. Guests had gathered, exchanging pleasantries and admiring the elegant setting. 

The atmosphere in the wedding venue was filled with a sense of elegance and festivity. Graham, seated with his Vice Commander and the group of boys from Grand Lake High School, couldn't help but express his admiration for the occasion.

"Man, I didn't expect this wedding to be this nice," Graham remarked, taking in the surroundings.

Joey, sitting beside Graham, nodded in agreement. "You could say that again, Graham."

Behind them, Muller and Gunther, along with their respective groups from North High School, shared the sentiment. The students from Grand Lake High and North High were dressed in their finest suits, remnants of the celebration they had enjoyed the previous day.

The diversity of attendees added to the grandeur of the event. Different small groups from Japanese High Schools, including Ooarai, St. Gloriana, Saunders, Pravda, and Kuromorimine, occupied various seats in the venue. The wedding had brought together students from different backgrounds and affiliations, momentarily uniting them in the celebration of Maho Nishizumi's marriage.

As the anticipation built and the ceremony continued, the guests, each with their unique perspectives and connections to the bride and groom, became witnesses to a momentous occasion that would soon take an unexpected turn. The beauty of the setting masked the brewing tensions beneath the surface, setting the stage for a sequence of events that would unfold in ways none of the attendees could have predicted.

As the wedding ceremony continued, the girls from different high schools found moments to converse, temporarily setting aside their tankery rivalries. The allure of the occasion and the celebration of Maho Nishizumi's wedding created a unique atmosphere that transcended the usual competition.

Miho Nishizumi, from Ooarai Girls High School, shared a quiet conversation with Yukari Akiyama. They discussed the beauty of the ceremony and how stunning Maho looked in her wedding gown.

"It's such a wonderful event. Maho-san looks absolutely radiant," Miho remarked, her eyes fixed on her older sister.

Yukari nodded in agreement, "Yes, she does. It's a side of her we rarely get to see."

Across the venue, Darjeeling and Orange Pekoe of St. Gloriana Girls High School engaged in polite conversation with Katyusha and Nonna from Pravda Girls High School. The topic veered toward their respective tankery experiences, creating a lighthearted exchange.

"I must say, this is quite the different battlefield," Darjeeling commented, sipping her tea with grace.

Katyusha chuckled, "Indeed. No tanks in sight, but it's a battle of elegance."

At another corner, Kay and Naomi from Saunders Girls High School found themselves discussing the cultural differences between their American school and the Japanese traditions showcased in the wedding.

"It's fascinating to see how different cultures celebrate love and union," Naomi observed.

Kay agreed, "Absolutely. Back home, weddings have a different vibe, but this has its charm."

As the ceremony progressed, the girls found common ground in their appreciation for the event. Despite the tankery competitions that awaited them in the future, the wedding served as a brief respite, allowing them to connect on a personal level and witness the union of Maho and her chosen partner. The shared moments of camaraderie among the girls hinted at the potential for friendships beyond the battlefield.

As Maho stood at the door, preparing to make her way to the altar where the 'Jester' awaited her, a noticeable unease and sadness clung to her expression. The 'Jester,' keenly observing her, sensed her discomfort. Turning to one of his friends, he received a confirming nod.

https://youtu.be/dLHCS6oL7lo

(Yes I had to do it)

Noticing Maho's distress, the 'Jester's' friend approached one of the musicians playing the piano, whispering a request. The musician, understanding the urgency, shifted the musical tone to C minor.

The girl, taking a moment to compose herself, stepped forward and addressed the gathered guests, her voice carrying a sincere tone.

"Ladies and Gentlemen... I would like to dedicate this song to these lovely couple," she announced.

As the first notes of the piano in C minor echoed through the venue, she began to sing, her voice resonating with emotion. The melody, distinct from the original wedding march, cast an unexpected atmosphere over the ceremony, drawing everyone's attention.

Where have all the good men gone

And where are all the gods

Where's the street-wise Hercules

To fight the rising odds

The lyrics of the song carried a depth that seemed to mirror Maho's hidden emotions. The girl sang with heartfelt sincerity, offering a moment of reflection and vulnerability amidst the grandeur of the wedding.

Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed

Late at night toss and turn and dream of what I need

The guests listened attentively, the altered musical arrangement casting a unique spell over the venue. The unexpected shift in tone created an undercurrent of tension, setting the stage for the events that would follow in the unfolding drama of Maho's wedding.

The music reached a crescendo inside the wedding venue, with the 'Jester's' friend continuing to sing 'Holding out for a Hero.' As the tension built within the ceremony, the scene shifted outside to the small group of Davy Crockett boys led by Houston.

Inside the tank, Houston's crew prepared for the unconventional entrance, with the Rangers staying behind cover, airsoft weapons at the ready.

"Alright, Rangers and Lone Star, let's crash this party!" Houston shouted, prompting a small cheer from his team.

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night

He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight

I need a hero

Outside, the League security personnel were caught off guard as they spotted a Sherman Tank driving up to the front gate. Shocked by the unexpected arrival, they quickly scrambled to defend their positions.

"Get the anti-tank rocket ready!" one of the security officials shouted, prompting others to prepare for an impending attack.

As the tank moved forward, an individual from the League fired an AT4 Launcher, launching a rocket that hit the side armor of the tank. However, it only scratched the paint job, much to the dismay of the tank's crew.

"Are you serious? Why scratch the paint job!" Troy, the tank's driver, exclaimed as he continued moving the tank forward. Meanwhile, 'Machine' manned the machine gun, firing chalk rounds at the defending positions.

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light

He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon

And he's gotta be larger than life

Larger than life

"They're running! Traverse left! Continue cutting them down! Grant, load in the shell! Scott, fire at the security building—it's filled with those security guys!" Houston commanded from the commander's seat inside the tank.

"You're clear!" Grant shouted.

"All the way!" Scott responded as he fired at the building, forcing the security team to evacuate from the structure. The daring entrance by the Davy Crockett boys added a chaotic twist to the wedding ceremony, setting the stage for an unexpected turn of events.

"Give me another; that was beautiful," Houston said, a smile playing on his face as he admired the effectiveness of Scott's shot. 'Machine' continued holding the trigger of the machine gun, providing cover for the advancing tank.

Somewhere after midnight

In my wildest fantasy

Somewhere, just beyond my reach

There's someone reaching back for me

With the League security responding to the unexpected intrusion in larger numbers, they called in reinforcements. The Federation Security, seeing the situation unfold, quickly joined forces with the League, bringing in a single tank to counter the Davy Crockett boys.

Dean, observing the incoming threat, urgently signaled to Houston, motioning for the Rangers to keep their heads low and stick close to the tank.

"Commander, they got a tank!" Dean shouted, alerting Houston to the imminent danger.

"Grant, load in the anti-tank shell. We've got to knock that tank out before it knocks us out first!" Houston commanded, recognizing the need to neutralize the opposing tank quickly.

Grant swiftly grabbed the anti-tank shell, loading it into the tank's cannon. Scott, still aiming through the scope, shouted the critical updates.

Racing on the thunder

And rising with the heat

It's gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet, yeah

"Clear!" Grant declared.

"All the way!" Scott responded, signaling that the anti-tank shell was ready to be fired. The tension escalated as the Davy Crockett boys prepared to face the incoming tank and security forces, turning the wedding venue into an unexpected battleground.

Houston braced himself as Scott fired the anti-tank shell. The projectile streaked through the air, closing in on the opposing tank with deadly accuracy. Moments later, the impact echoed through the surroundings as the shell struck its target, causing a burst of smoke and debris.

Up where the mountains meet the heavens above

Out where the lightning splits the sea

I could swear there is someone, somewhere, watching me

"Good hit!" Houston exclaimed, a sense of accomplishment evident in his voice.

The Rangers, following Houston's lead, maintained cover and observed the results of the successful attack. The damaged enemy tank now presented a less immediate threat, allowing the Davy Crockett boys to focus on the remaining security forces.

"Move in, Rangers! Let's clear the path for the Lone Star!" Houston ordered, signaling for the Rangers to advance and deal with the remaining security personnel.

Through the wind and the chill and the rain

And the storm and the flood

I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood

(Like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my blood)

(Like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my blood, blood)

The skirmish continued, turning the wedding venue into an unexpected battlefield. The clash between the Davy Crockett boys and the security forces unfolded against the backdrop of the ongoing ceremony, creating a surreal juxtaposition of celebration and conflict.

With the Lone Star positioned to cover the entrance, Scott and the crew made a resolute decision to hold off the approaching security forces, providing Houston and the Rangers with an opportunity to advance.

"Go, Houston! We'll cover your guys' entrance!" Scott affirmed, determination in his voice.

"Are you sure?" Houston inquired, considering the weight of the decision.

"Yes, we are very sure! Now go, we've got your guys' back. We will hold them off," Troy assured, the Lone Star maintaining its defensive position as 'Machine' continued laying suppressing fire.

Houston swiftly exited the tank through the command hatch, joining his Rangers on foot. "Let's go!" he shouted, prompting the Rangers to follow him.

Rushing toward the building, the Rangers, led by Houston, engaged in a close-quarters firefight. Airsoft pellets whizzed through the air as Dean, Ben, Houston, Red, and Jefferson pushed forward. Meanwhile, Dean's squad, consisting of Sean, Gus, and Hector, held their ground against a small patch of security forces.

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night

He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight

"Go, we will hold them off!" Sean shouted, his Irish accent cutting through the din of battle.

As Houston and Red led the charge toward the wedding venue, they were abruptly halted as Dean, Jefferson, and Ben came to a sudden stop. Confusion flashed in Houston's eyes as he looked at the three, seeking an explanation.

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light

He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon

And he's gotta be larger than life

"Dean, Jefferson, Ben?" Houston queried, a note of urgency in his voice.

"Go! Go! Go! Your lady needs you, Houston. Go!" Jefferson insisted, determination etched across his face.

"Don't worry, we will deal with them," Dean added, signaling their readiness to handle the approaching security team.

Houston hesitated for a moment, torn between pressing forward to join the ongoing wedding turmoil and staying back to support his comrades. However, the resolve in Dean, Jefferson, and Ben's expressions reassured him that they had the situation under control.

"Alright, hold the line here. We'll be back for you," Houston asserted, acknowledging their commitment.

With a final nod, Houston and Red sprinted ahead, leaving Dean, Jefferson, and Ben to face the incoming security forces. The camaraderie among the Davy Crockett boys remained unwavering as they divided their efforts to both protect and advance, each member playing a crucial role in the unfolding events.

As Houston and Red pressed forward, determined to reach the wedding venue, the scene shifted back to the ceremony where the vows were about to be exchanged. The altered atmosphere created by the unexpected events outside had not gone unnoticed, but the bride and groom remained poised, ready to profess their commitment to each other.

The 'Jester' and Maho stood before the officiant, surrounded by the lingering tension that hung in the air. The musician, having concluded the impromptu song, returned to the traditional wedding march as the ceremony sought to regain its original rhythm.

The officiant spoke, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of these two souls in the sacred bond of marriage. Jaime Hunter and Maho Nishizumi have chosen to declare their love and commitment to each other in the presence of friends and family."

Meanwhile, at the door, Houston and Red found themselves in a moment of anticipation. Red, ever the strategist, halted Houston before he could open the door.

"Woah, woah, woah! Don, wait! You've got to do this right, older brother," Red urged, preventing Houston from hastily entering.

"What do you mean, Red?" Houston questioned, a mix of urgency and confusion in his voice.

"There's a line... When the priest or someone says, 'speak now or forever hold your peace,' and we enter there, and you say, 'I object!'" Red explained, laying out his plan.

"Red, we don't have time for this!" Houston protested, mindful of the urgency of the situation.

"Woah, wait! I get you love Maho so much, you just got to try a little tenderness, Don," Red encouraged, emphasizing the significance of the moment.

"Alright! When does that guy say it?" Houston asked, ready to seize the opportune moment.

"Let me see that," Red replied, positioning Don to the side as he opened the door slightly, allowing them to eavesdrop on what was transpiring inside. The tension outside mirrored the uncertainty within the wedding venue as the ceremony hung on the precipice of a potentially game-changing interruption.

As Red carefully opened the door to eavesdrop on the ongoing ceremony, the officiant continued with his pronouncements. Houston, anxious to understand what was transpiring, spoke in a hushed tone.

"What's going on in there?" Houston whispered to Red.

"Wow, everything looks nice... Graham and Muller are in there, and I see Maho and this weird guy that looks so familiar at the altar," Red whispered back.

"Now, with the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride," declared the officiant, bringing the ceremony to a seemingly delightful conclusion.

"Oh, for God's sake! He already said it..." Red exclaimed in a low tone.

"Aw, crap!" Houston muttered under his breath, realizing they had missed the opportune moment.

Just as the officiant declared the newlyweds and the attendees prepared for the anticipated kiss, Houston, in a fit of desperation, kicked open the door, shocking everyone inside.

"I OBJECT!" Houston bellowed, his interruption punctuating the ceremony and leaving everyone in stunned silence.

The unexpected intrusion added a touch of chaotic humor to the solemn occasion, with Maho, Jaime Hunter, and the guests caught off guard by Houston's theatrical objection. The comedic twist injected an unforeseen element into the wedding, setting the stage for an unpredictable turn of events.

"Don?" Maho exclaimed in surprise as she saw him charging down the aisle.

The 'Jester,' on the other hand, gritted his teeth in anger, realizing that his meticulously crafted plan was now on the verge of unraveling. As everyone watched Houston approaching the altar, Maho, taken aback, walked toward him and questioned his unexpected presence.

"Don, what are you doing here?" Maho inquired, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in her voice.

"Look, Maho, I need to talk to you," Houston said earnestly.

"Oh, you want to talk? Well, Don, look, you missed your chance. I have to do what I must," Maho asserted, her tone resolute.

"You can't. This isn't the right way for you to be married to the person you love," Don pleaded, determined to convey his message.

"And what do you know about the person you love, Don? You told me to forget you and continue with what I should do. You said that in a letter when you went to fight Anderson alone with your little brother, Red," Maho reminded him.

"What I said back then... I thought I was protecting you, but honestly, I'm so goddamn stubborn about my past. You showed me how to be myself. Look, I walked away from my family after what happened three years ago, and as I did that, it really changed me, well, a little bit. You could change your way too, just like your little sister Miho did when you two faced her. You can't keep following the same traditional path of the Nishizumi way that your family wants. You can change the Nishizumi way, and that will make you the best person and the best tanker," Houston passionately expressed his thoughts, hoping to make Maho reconsider her decisions.

Maho stood there, listening to Don's heartfelt words, and a range of emotions played across her face. The weight of the decision she was about to make bore heavily on her shoulders. The 'Jester' watched from the side, his frustration growing as he realized that Houston's intervention was stirring something deep within Maho.

"Don, you don't understand," Maho began, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "I've carried the burden of the Nishizumi tradition for so long. I've tried to uphold it, to honor my family's legacy. But it has cost me so much—my relationships, my own happiness. I can't just change who I am overnight."

Houston, undeterred, looked into Maho's eyes, his own filled with sincerity. "I'm not asking you to change overnight. I'm asking you to consider a different path, a path where you can be true to yourself. The Nishizumi way doesn't have to be a prison; it can be a source of strength that guides you to become the person you want to be."

Maho took a deep breath, torn between the expectations of her family and the desires of her own heart. The solemn atmosphere in the room reflected the emotional struggle unfolding before everyone's eyes.

"Don, you left without a word, and it hurt. But I also saw how you've changed, how you've grown. Maybe... maybe change is possible," Maho admitted, her voice quivering with vulnerability.

The 'Jester' watched, seething with anger, realizing that Houston's words were making an impact on Maho. As the emotions continued to swirl in the room, the future of Maho's decision hung in the delicate balance between tradition and the possibility of a new, more authentic path.

Before Maho could utter a word, a slow clap echoed in the room, drawing everyone's attention to the 'Jester,' who was standing at a distance, applauding the unfolding drama.

"Jamie?" Maho questioned, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Well, isn't this such a touching moment," Jester remarked in his disguised voice.

Houston, recognizing that he might know the mysterious figure, squinted his eyes as he asked, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Oh, yes, you do know me. You all know me," Jester replied, reveling in the attention. "Graham, Muller, Red, and you, Don Houston. I know all about you. I was hoping to marry Maho just to ruin you even more. But I can see that isn't going to happen."

In a swift motion, Jester grabbed Maho, producing a knife and holding her hostage. Houston and Red froze, Muller and Graham jumped out of their seats, and gasps rippled through the room as Jester revealed his true face by removing the fake mask.

"Robert?" Houston, Graham, Muller, and Red uttered simultaneously.

"Yes, you thought you really killed me when we faced each other," Jester confirmed, pointing at Houston, Graham, and Muller.

"You know, I was planning this from the very beginning. Before the war game between the League and the Federation, before you were shipped off to this island, I found out that Maho was looking for the best person to marry in this arranged wedding. So, I took that opportunity. When Commander Anderson gathered us old Dogs of War and our loyal members after the shutdown of Vermont Tankery Academy, I went undercover, only to discover that you and Miss Little Nishizumi had a secret relationship. I spied on you as one of your boys, and you never noticed me as I witnessed the two of you growing close. Fate had a plan—I hoped to see you again.

Then, fate played another hand when Anderson captured the two of you, torturing you the most. I was there in the shadows, watching the torment Anderson put you through. Yet again, fate has a different plan, and here I am, fated to face you again," Jester explained, laying out the sinister details of his long-standing vendetta.

As Jester revealed his true identity and intentions, chaos erupted in the room. The guests gasped and murmured as they realized the gravity of the situation. Houston, Graham, Muller, and Red were ready to take action, but before they could make a move, Jester signaled to his friends.

With swift coordination, the Jester's comrades activated a series of smoke canisters strategically placed around the room. Thick, billowing smoke filled the air, obscuring visibility and causing panic among the guests. The officiant, Maho's family, and the other attendees stumbled and coughed, disoriented by the sudden smoke screen.

In the confusion, Jester made a desperate move, pulling out a small device and activating it. The room shook as a loud explosion echoed from a hidden location, shaking the entire building. Alarms blared, adding to the cacophony of chaos.

As the smoke began to clear, the guests looked around, trying to make sense of what had just happened. In the midst of the confusion, Jester and his accomplices took advantage of the distraction. They moved swiftly, grabbing Maho, Miho, Kay, and Erika as hostages, and blending into the disoriented crowd.

"Don't even think about following us," Jester warned, holding a knife close to Maho's throat. The hostages were ushered towards the exit, and with a final, sinister grin, Jester disappeared into the chaos of the smoke-filled room.

"Maho!" Houston's shout echoed through the chaos.

"Miho!" Red's voice joined the desperate chorus.

"We've got to get after them!" Muller urged, prompting the four to give chase.

Jester and his group, seeing Houston, Muller, Red, and Graham hot on their heels, hurriedly stuffed the girls into a waiting jeep. Facing off against their pursuers, Jester and his comrades prepared for the inevitable confrontation.

"Very well... Let's do this," Jester declared, and the clash began.

The fight erupted in a flurry of motion and blows. Houston, fueled by a mixture of anger and determination, threw the first punch, aiming for Jester's masked face. Jester, agile and anticipating the attack, evaded with a swift sidestep, his laughter echoing eerily through the chaotic scene.

Graham and Muller were engaged with Jester's accomplices. Graham, a skilled hand-to-hand combatant, exchanged powerful strikes with his opponent, each blow calculated and precise. Muller, utilizing his military training, deftly parried and countered, attempting to create an opening.

Meanwhile, Red, the youngest among them, displayed remarkable agility and speed. He darted between opponents, landing quick strikes and delivering impressive kicks, making himself a challenging target.

The uneven fight unfolded in the midst of the disoriented guests, the alarms still blaring in the background. Each clash of fists and kicks reverberated through the room, creating a chaotic symphony of battle.

Jester, though outnumbered, fought with a cunning strategy, dodging and parrying attacks while seizing opportunities to strike back. The room became a battleground, with the combatants weaving between disoriented guests, overturned chairs, and lingering smoke.

As the fight raged on, the outcome remained uncertain. The stakes were high, and the fate of the hostages hung in the balance.

Amidst the tumultuous fight, Maho, Miho, Kay, and Erika found themselves caught in a mix of fear and confusion. The chaos unfolding before them was beyond anything they had anticipated for what should have been a joyous occasion.

Maho, usually composed and stoic, couldn't hide the concern in her eyes as she watched the skirmish between Jester and his group against Houston, Muller, Red, and Graham. The blows exchanged and the clashes of bodies reverberated around them, amplifying the tension in the room.

Miho, though concerned for her sister and friends, maintained a level-headed demeanor, analyzing the situation and looking for any opportunity to escape. Her tactical mind raced as she observed the fight, searching for potential weaknesses or openings.

Kay, not one to be easily rattled, tried to remain calm, but the urgency of the situation was impossible to ignore. She glanced at Erika, who seemed equally unnerved, and silently communicated a shared concern.

Erika, normally boisterous and full of energy, felt a knot tightening in her stomach. She gripped her hands nervously, her eyes darting between the ongoing battle and her captive friends. The gravity of the situation began to weigh heavily on her.

The girls exchanged worried glances, their silent communication conveying a mix of fear and determination. As the fight continued to unfold, they understood that the outcome held significant consequences not just for the combatants but for their own safety as well.

Graham's confident demeanor and impeccable fighting skills took center stage in the midst of the chaotic brawl. As he effortlessly dodged punches and kicks, his movements were smooth and calculated, showcasing a level of skill that hinted at a unique background.

With a theatrical flair, Graham delivered a well-executed roundhouse kick that caught his assailant off guard. The assailant staggered, momentarily disoriented, giving Graham the opportunity to unleash a barrage of precise punches. Each strike landed with precision, showcasing Graham's proficiency in hand-to-hand combat.

In a surprising move, the assailant retaliated with a powerful punch. However, Graham's quick reflexes came into play as he smoothly transitioned into a split, narrowly avoiding the incoming blow. Seizing the opportunity, Graham swiftly delivered a low blow—a nut punch that left his opponent groaning in pain, clutching his private area.

Graham, with a charismatic smirk on his face, addressed his downed foe, injecting a touch of humor into the intense situation. "You know, when I was in Hollywood with my parents, I didn't need my own stunt double... I do my stunts."

The onlookers, caught between concern and amusement, couldn't help but be captivated by Graham's unexpected performance. As the fight continued to unfold, Graham's unique blend of skill and showmanship added a surreal touch to the already dramatic scenario.

As Graham continued to engage in the choreographed combat, his assailant struggled to regain composure from the unexpected blow. Graham, always theatrical, took advantage of the moment and delivered a series of acrobatic kicks and spins, adding flair to his fighting style.

With a playful grin, Graham executed a dazzling flip, narrowly avoiding a counterattack. His movements were not only efficient but also showcased a certain elegance. The assailant, disoriented and outmatched, found it challenging to anticipate Graham's unpredictable maneuvers.

As the skirmish unfolded, Graham seamlessly blended martial arts finesse with Hollywood-inspired theatrics. He delivered a swift knee strike, expertly incapacitating his opponent. The assailant, now subdued, attempted to rise, only to be met with a final, theatrically exaggerated kick from Graham.

Graham, his charismatic grin still in place, addressed the subdued assailant with a touch of showmanship. "You should've stuck to Hollywood, my friend. It's a tough act to follow."

The onlookers, momentarily distracted from the broader conflict, couldn't help but be entertained by Graham's unexpected display of skill and wit. As the fight continued, Graham's unique approach added a layer of intrigue to the ongoing chaos, leaving both allies and adversaries captivated by the unfolding spectacle.

Muller swiftly danced around his assailant's attacks, showcasing agility that defied his seemingly casual demeanor. A well-timed punch landed on the assailant, stunning him momentarily. Muller, not one to let an opportunity slip away, capitalized on the opening by executing a graceful flip kick that left his adversary disoriented.

As the assailant attempted to regain composure, he revealed a knife, a move that Muller met with a raised eyebrow and a dismissive comment in his distinct German accent. "Really, a knife? Please, I've seen worse that could scare me."

Undeterred, the assailant lunged forward, aiming the blade at Muller. With a combination of agility and precision, Muller evaded the swings, taunting his opponent with each effortless dodge. The dance between the two escalated, the assailant desperately trying to land a decisive blow.

In a calculated move, the knife finally made contact, slicing through Muller's shirt. Visibly annoyed, Muller responded in a burst of frustration, kicking his adversary backward to create some distance. Seizing the opportunity to vent his irritation, Muller shouted in German, "BIST DU ERNST? DIESES SHIRT WURDE VON DER FAMILIE MASSGESCHNEIDERT, DU IDIOT!"

His German outburst echoed in the midst of the chaotic confrontation, a testament to Muller's pride in his custom-made attire and the frustration at seeing it marred by a seemingly trivial adversary. The fight continued, each move and exchange reflecting the unique personalities and skills of those caught in the turmoil.

The assailant, undeterred by Muller's verbal assault, recovered from the kick and advanced with renewed determination. Muller, fueled by both frustration and the desire to protect his family's honor, squared off against his opponent.

The fight resumed with an intense exchange of strikes and dodges. Muller, showcasing his martial prowess, expertly parried the knife-wielding assailant's attacks. As the confrontation escalated, Muller seized the opportunity to disarm his adversary. With a swift move, he redirected the assailant's arm, causing the knife to clatter to the ground.

"Now we're talking," Muller quipped in a mix of German and English, his characteristic smirk appearing as he gained the upper hand. With the assailant temporarily disarmed, Muller continued his assault with a flurry of punches and kicks, showcasing a blend of precision and power.

The assailant, now on the defensive, struggled to keep up with Muller's relentless assault. Muller, fueled by both skill and determination, pressed on, delivering a final knockout blow that left the assailant incapacitated on the ground.

As the dust settled from the skirmish, Muller, breathing heavily, shot a glance at his tattered shirt and muttered to himself in German, "Ich kann nicht glauben, dass er mein Hemd geschnitten hat."

The fight raged on in different corners, each participant facing their own challenges and adversaries. The chaotic spectacle continued, a testament to the resilience and skill of those caught in the midst of the unexpected conflict.

The girls from various high schools, including Ooarai, Saunders, Kuromorine, St. Gloriana, and Pravda, watched the unfolding melee with a mix of surprise and curiosity. Their reactions remained true to the distinctive personalities and dynamics seen in Girls und Panzer.

From Ooarai, Yukari Akiyama, Mako Reizei, and Hana Isuzu exchanged wide-eyed glances, their expressions mirroring the shock of witnessing an unexpected brawl. Yukari's enthusiasm was evident as she leaned forward, eager to catch every detail.

Alisa and Naomi exchanged whispers, their conversation a blend of excitement and amusement. Meanwhile, St. Gloriana's refined Darjeeling observed with an air of composed curiosity, a slight raise of her eyebrow betraying her intrigue.

Katyusha, the diminutive commander of Pravda, observed the chaos with a stern expression, her eyes sharply assessing the unfolding events. Across the spectrum, the girls' reactions aligned with their respective school cultures, creating a unique blend of astonishment and interest.

As the fight continued, the diverse group of girls maintained their focus, sharing subtle glances and occasionally exchanging comments that added a layer of camaraderie to the unexpected spectacle. 

The tension in the air escalated as the two sets of combatants faced each other, creating a momentary stand-off. The assailants, undeterred by the recent interruptions, poised themselves for the next phase of the skirmish.

Don and Red, the Houston brothers, exchanged a brief but determined glance, reaffirming their commitment to face the adversaries together. As the assailants closed in, the brothers moved with synchronicity, each focusing on their respective opponent.

Red, showcasing his exceptional agility, engaged in a lightning-fast exchange with the female assailant. The two combatants demonstrated remarkable speed and precision as they dodged, countered, and delivered a series of calculated strikes. Red's acrobatic maneuvers and swift reactions allowed him to hold his own against the formidable opponent.

Meanwhile, Don squared off against the 'Jester,' the orchestrator of this chaotic encounter. The two exchanged blows, each landing impactful punches and kicks. Despite the 'Jester's' deceptive agility, Don's combat experience and determination shone through as he skillfully blocked and countered the assailant's attacks.

The skirmish unfolded with a relentless flurry of movements, the combatants navigating the confined space with impressive skill. The room echoed with the sounds of fists connecting, kicks landing, and the occasional grunt or sharp exhale.

The Houston brothers fought side by side, seamlessly covering each other's blind spots. Despite the unpredictable nature of the brawl, their coordinated efforts showcased a level of synergy that came from years of shared experiences.

As the fight raged on, the onlookers, including the captive girls and the girls from other high schools, watched with a mix of astonishment and anticipation. The room became an arena for a clash of skill, determination, and the unyielding bond between two brothers in the face of unexpected adversity.

The chaotic ballet of fists and kicks continued, each move calculated and executed with precision. Don and Red, driven by a shared purpose, fought tirelessly against their opponents.

Don found an opening in the 'Jester's' defenses, delivering a powerful roundhouse kick that sent the assailant staggering backward. Seizing the moment, Don closed the distance and unleashed a rapid flurry of punches. The 'Jester,' while skilled, struggled to keep up with the relentless assault.

Red, showcasing his nimble footwork, skillfully evaded the female assailant's strikes. With a swift spin, he delivered a spinning back kick that caught her off guard. Red followed up with a series of well-timed punches and a sweep that brought her to the ground, momentarily incapacitating her.

The skirmish unfolded like a dynamic choreography, each participant contributing to the frenetic dance of combat. The room became a canvas for the clash of conflicting forces, echoing with the sounds of impact and the occasional groans of those on the receiving end.

As the fight progressed, the room's atmosphere became charged with tension. The onlookers, including the captive girls and the girls from other high schools, remained captivated by the spectacle before them. The distinct fighting styles of the Houston brothers, coupled with their unwavering determination, made them a force to be reckoned with.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Red launched himself into a daring flip, delivering a powerful kick that incapacitated the female assailant. Meanwhile, Don, seizing the opportunity, unleashed a final devastating blow that sent the 'Jester' crashing to the ground.

The room fell silent for a moment, broken only by heavy breaths and the sight of the defeated assailants. Don and Red stood triumphant, their fists raised in readiness. The tension lingered as they assessed the aftermath of the intense confrontation.

The room remained tense as the defeated assailants slowly recovered from the beating they had endured. The 'Jester,' lying on the floor, looked up at the Houston brothers with a mix of anger and frustration.

"Well, it seems the tables have turned," Don said, his voice firm but composed.

Red, standing beside his older brother, cracked a small grin. "You picked the wrong family to mess with, pal."

As the fight seemed to be over, Graham walked toward the two Houstons along with Muller. Graham took a long exhale, shaking his arm after the intense fight, reminiscent of the Dallas Incident match.

"Woo... That was crazy... Made me feel like we were in that Dallas Incident match again..." Graham said.

"Yeah, it does," Muller added, checking the ripped shirt.

"You two okay?" Houston asked.

"Oh, we're fine... Just a little bit winded, that's all..." Graham said, catching his breath.

While they were recovering from the fight, the four of them approached the jeep where the 'Jester' had locked up Miho, Kay, Erika, and Maho. Miho quickly hugged Red in surprise, causing a joyful smile on Red's face. Kay, in her usual bold fashion, pulled Graham into a deep kiss, and Erika anxiously checked on Muller, who reassured her that he was fine.

Maho, nestled in Houston's embrace, felt a mixture of relief and gratitude. She held onto him as if trying to reassure herself that the nightmare was truly over. Houston, sensing her need for comfort, whispered soothing words into her ear.

"You're safe now, Maho. I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you," Houston murmured, his voice a gentle reassurance.

Maho, finally allowing herself to release the pent-up emotions, nodded against his chest. The tension that had gripped her seemed to dissipate with each passing moment in Houston's arms. They stood there, a silent understanding passing between them, as the chaos of the earlier events began to settle.

The tension in the room seemed to lift as Shiho, Maho's mother, approached the couple. Don and Maho turned to see her with a relief-filled expression, clearly happy to find her daughters safe.

Feeling the weight of the situation and knowing the challenges that lay ahead, Don held Maho in his arms as Shiho spoke.

"Maho..." Shiho began, her eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and relief.

Before she could say anything further, Don, determined to address Shiho's concerns, spoke up. "Look, I know you don't like the idea of me spending time with your daughter, and you might think I'm just another playboy American. Well, I can say whatever you're about to say or what you're thinking – you're wrong. I love Maho, and I will do anything so that we can be together."

Expecting a different reaction from Shiho, Don was surprised to see a smile form on her face. It seemed she was happy for the two of them. Shiho walked up to Houston and raised her hand, signaling a gesture of acceptance.

"That's all I need to hear. I thank you and your little brother Red for taking care of my two daughters," Shiho said as she extended her hand towards Don.

With a genuine smile, Don shook Shiho's hand, relieved that she understood his sincerity and commitment to Maho. The atmosphere in the room began to shift towards a more positive and hopeful one.

As the sun set on the chaotic events of the day, Red and Don, the two brothers, stood together, reflecting on the craziness that had unfolded.

"Well, that was crazy..." Red remarked, his tone a mix of amazement and amusement.

"It sure was. We're probably going to get a long lecture from Uncle Doyal and Aunt Dee for making them wait after crashing the wedding," Houston replied with a wry smile.

"True. But, you know, it was kind of fun," Red admitted.

Houston nodded in agreement. "That it was."

Red then turned to his older brother, contemplating the next steps. "So, now what?"

Houston thought for a moment before answering, "Well, Maho and I decided that we'll get married after finishing our high schools. Gives us some time to focus on our studies without worrying too much about each other. We'll meet during holiday breaks."

"That sounds like a plan. Miho and I are thinking along the same lines," Red shared.

"Great minds think alike," Houston teased.

The brothers decided it was time to rejoin the others. As they walked away from the scene, Red had a suggestion. "Hey, when we return to America and head back to our home state of Texas, want to grab some Buffalo Wild Wings? I've been craving those."

"We'll see, little brother... We'll see," Houston replied, leaving the future open-ended as they made their way back to their friends and family.

https://youtu.be/rIVO8b_ifpI

A/N WOO!!! That what I'm talking about that how you make a perfect ending... Thank you all so much for sticking around for this story you don't know how this mean so much to me including you my good viewers as this story caught many attention on some good authors like KingDiscord and Warthunderrager I would like to thank them for sparing their time reading this story that caught their attention... 

That all I have to say which wow I don't know what to say but thank you and I'll see you all later.

-Tom out

A few days had passed, showing Houston standing in the Davy Crockett High School's huge courtyard, alone and enjoying the peaceful moment until he heard his name being called.

"Houston!" a person shouted.

Jefferson walked up to Houston as Don was about to light up his cigarette from a fresh pack he had secretly obtained. He was about to light one up but refrained, knowing he couldn't smoke on school property. Jefferson, his Vice Commander, approached him.

"You okay, Commander?" Jefferson spoke up.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just thinking," Houston said.

"Thinking about us being the first-place S Rank School in the America Tankery League. I tell you, Commander, we will get a lot of things from this. When you first joined this school's tankery, I would never have thought our tankery team would get this big. If it weren't for us, this legacy we've built will someday inspire the newer generation who join this team. We'll be a valuable commodity once we finish our school year, becoming known figures for what we've done. And this is just the beginning, Houston. What we've created here is a revolution in itself. Am I right?" Jefferson said.

Houston sighed and spoke up, "You don't get it... It will not be that easy," Houston said.

"What do you mean?" Jefferson asked.

"The whole Oshima Island Incident we faced has left its mark, putting us on the radar of different S Rank schools out there in the states. Almost half of S Rank Schools probably know about us now. We've let ourselves interfere with the times, and me, you, Red, and Dean—the known survivors of the Dallas Incident—are probably being spied on," Houston said.

"I see your point. So what happens to us now?" Jefferson asked.

"We'll be hunted," Houston answered.

"Not everybody in S Rank is going to be happy with us, huh?" Jefferson said.

"You're damn right. We upset the S Rank balance ranking system of which school is the best," Houston said.

Jefferson's eyes narrowed with determination. "And these people would rather have our team not exist in the S Rank at all?" he asked.

"They're gonna come knocking real soon. There's no turning back now. We're a wrench in the old system of the association that was shut down after the Dallas Incident," Houston said. "As long as we have Grand Lake High, North High, Washington Boy's and Girl's Academy, and Kansas Chief High as our allies, we're going to make a hell of a racket."

"Then who are we going to fight?" Jefferson inquired.

"The Big Three... Anybody who wants to see the person who took down Vermont Tankery Academy, the academy I shut down, wants to snuff us out and force us to abandon our S Rank status," Houston explained.

"Who are the Big Three?" Jefferson asked.

"It won't be a regular Commander that would hunt us," Houston said.

"Who then?" Jefferson eagerly asked, confused about what Houston was saying.

"We're gonna be fighting the biggest beasts of all... The Generals and Emperor of the S Rank Schools," Houston said as he took a couple of steps forward.

"Three years ago, The Big Three went after my old schools and tried to defeat us but failed to do so. And now with Vermont Tankery Academy gone and Anderson dead, we're the ones being tested. Will the Big Three erase us? Or work with us? It's gonna be a lonely battle. No good or evil, no winners or losers. Our plans will have to wait. The questions we have to ask ourselves now are: Can we protect our way of Tankery so it can survive long enough for a new generation to see?" Houston said.

"I'm with you, boss. We'll see how it turns out together," Jefferson declared.

As the school bell rang and students headed off to their next class, Houston took his leave. However, he stopped and spoke to Jefferson, who was watching him.

"The hunt is on, Jefferson, and they're on our tail," Houston said, turning his head to face Jefferson.

"Assamble the Rangers and our men," Houston said as he left the courtyard, leaving behind an atmosphere charged with tension and the impending storm of challenges that lay ahead

https://youtu.be/xWPItm82r7I

July 24: Davy Crockett High School wins their 2nd League Tankery Champion 

July 25: Sensha Do Federation Challenged America Tankery League for the dismantled of their sport.

July 28: Don Houston and Maho Nishizumi became Marshal Commanders 

Augest 3: The High Schools team enter the island of Oshima which started the match.

Augest 5: Operation Statlemate was played marking the win for the Americans

Augest 17: Anderson and the old remeant snuck their way into the island.

Augest 21& 24: "The Raise and Fall of the Alamo as Jefferson, Joey, Muller, Gunther and Elijah and their boys were captured and held prisoners.

Augest 27: The Spark of the Oshima Incident nine boy's were killed as Maho and other Japanese school joined Houston as he was on the rescue mission saving the prisoners of the alamo... And the Death of Pyscho Mantis.

September 1: Both America and Japanese schools form up creating the Joint high school team

September 4: Houston suffer by a failsafe that Anderson inject Houston three years ago before the Dallas incident

September 6: The Capture of Commander Chiaki was sucess.

September 7: "The attack of 'Crying Wolf' which Houston and his Lone Star kill her and her tank crew with the help advise of 'Null'

September 19: The Return of Commander Anderson.

September 26: The Return of 'Fury' which Paul died in the hands of Houston.

September 29: Davy Crockett, Ooarai and Kuromorimine was ambushed by Anderson forces which lead the Capture of Houston and Maho

October 3: Grand Lake High, North High and other high schools including the help with Major Mckenzie starts a search and rescue for Houston and Maho.

October 12: Houston escaped with Maho as the Ninja saved Houston life by injecting the syringe that would stop his sickness

October 20: The Return of Red Ace (Red Houston) and the Return of Spector of Death (Don Houston) as Anderson save his old Vice Commander

November 5: Red and Don fight as Red saves his older brother.

November 16: Began Operation Cherrybomb with Washington Boy's and Girl's Acadmey the Canadian's American lead by Archie saved their missing people and the Sergeant scarfice himself destorying the Vermont's supplies. Dillion and the group of Polish Americans fought and successfully defend Hill 262

November 22: The Joint High School make their way to Commander Chiaki HQ

November 24: The fall of the Federation Sensha Do team and the Death of Sienna Houston half sister of Don and Red Houston and the system of the 'Patriot' being used

November 29: Don and Red quickly made their final attack in Anderson Secret FOB and the Death of 'Slient Cobra' (Floyd) 

December 1: The Destruction of the FOB and the 'Patriot'  system following The Death of Anderson and Anthony and the war game between the League and the Federation Sensha Do Ended...

December 3: Don Houston meet his father again after head back to the Island to stop Maho wedding in the process defeateding and sparing 'Laughing Jester' (Robert) 

2XXX: The Surpries Attack of Davy Crockett High School......

To be Continued.... In the Next Yankee's in Tank story....