1838 in Galveston Texas

After spending a long time in the office, it then shows Texas President Sam Houston returning home, holding a bottle of whiskey that he always likes to drink while walking. He leans on a nearby tree on his back, staring off and looking at the sunset over the horizon in the Texas landscape.

Smirking a bit as Sam was about to drink, a person came up to him and spoke, catching Houston's attention.

"Now, how many times did I tell you to stop drinking, Samuel Houston?" A woman's voice said, causing Sam to chuckle upon hearing his full name being called out to him.

Sam Houston turned to face the woman, his wife, Margaret Lea Houston. The year was 1838 in Galveston, Texas, a crucial time in Texan history. As the first President of the Republic of Texas, Sam Houston played a vital role in shaping the destiny of the fledgling nation.

Margaret, known for her strong influence on Sam, had always been a stabilizing force in his life. Despite the challenges of leading a newly-formed republic, Sam's love for Margaret remained unwavering. He smiled at her, his eyes reflecting both affection and the weariness of his responsibilities.

"Margaret, my dear, I reckon a sip of whiskey won't hurt anyone," Sam replied, his Texas drawl evident in his voice.

She crossed her arms, giving him a stern look. "Samuel, you know the weight of the decisions you make affects us all. You can't be leading a nation if you're constantly under the influence."

Sam sighed, realizing the truth in her words. He placed the bottle on the ground and embraced Margaret. "You're right, as always. These are trying times for Texas, and I need a clear mind."

As the two stood together, still staring off at the sunset, Sam sighed and spoke up to his wife.

"You know, Margaret, if we had children of our own, have you ever wondered what our future children, grandchildren, or great-great-grandchildren will ever do?" Sam said.

Margaret's gaze followed the sun as it dipped below the Texas horizon. She pondered Sam's question, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Oh, Sam," she began, "I reckon they'd be as resilient as this land. Our descendants, carrying the legacy of Texas, would face challenges with the same determination that brought us to this moment."

Sam nodded, appreciating Margaret's wisdom. "I hope they inherit the spirit of independence and the love for this vast land. Texas is more than just a piece of geography; it's a spirit, a way of life."

As the couple walked back home, hand in hand, they envisioned a future where their legacy intertwined with the evolving story of Texas. The Republic faced uncertainties, but the Houstons were confident that their descendants would navigate the changing tides with the same resilience that defined the Texan spirit.

Little did they know, their contributions to Texas history would echo through the generations, shaping the destiny of a state that would eventually become an integral part of the United States. The Houston legacy would be remembered not only in the history books but also in the hearts and minds of those who called Texas home.

In the year 2XXX, the atmosphere at Davy Crockett High School was tense as the news of a spontaneous challenge to Groton High School spread among the students. The remaining students gathered, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern.

"What do you mean we just challenged Groton High School to a match!?" yelled Scott, his frustration evident.

"Well, I thought it would boost our morale and be our payback for what they did to our school," explained the boy wearing his toga on top of his school uniform.

Dean chimed in, "Yeah, it did, but we aren't done with the repairs on our tanks that they damaged during the surprise attack on our school."

"And we can't go into a match without our Commander," added one of the boys.

A wave of realization swept through the students. The gravity of the situation sank in.

"Well, we can't cancel this match. If we do, I hate to say this... it would shut down our school," the boy declared, causing shock among the Davy Crockett High School Tankers, Rangers, Airborne, and Pilots.

The students exchanged glances, understanding the dire consequences of their impromptu challenge. The fate of their school hung in the balance, and they now faced a challenge greater than any match they had engaged in before. The realization spurred a sense of determination among the students as they began to strategize, knowing that the survival of Davy Crockett High School rested on their shoulders.

Amidst the heated discussion, tempers flared among the Davy Crockett boys. Different opinions clashed, each arguing for their perspective on the impending S Rank match.

Scott, frustrated, slammed his hands on the table. "We can't just charge into an S Rank match without proper preparation! It's suicide!"

The boy in the toga maintained his confidence, "Scott, we've been underestimated before, and we've come out on top. We can't let fear dictate our actions now."

Dean, playing the mediator, tried to find common ground. "We understand the stakes, but we also need to be realistic. Facing three schools at once, all in S Rank, is unprecedented."

One of the boys chimed in, "And we still don't have our Commander back. How are we supposed to strategize without our leader?"

The room fell into a tense silence as the magnitude of the challenge became apparent. The fate of Davy Crockett High School hung in the balance, and the disagreement among the boys reflected the internal struggle of the entire student body.

Finally, Scott spoke with a determined tone, "Look, we need to find a solution. Whether it's recruiting additional support, negotiating terms, or pulling off a miraculous strategy, we can't afford to back down, but we also can't afford to be reckless."

As the boys continued to debate and plan, the weight of the impending S Rank match pressed down on them. The unity of Davy Crockett High School's team would be tested like never before, and the decisions made in the coming days would shape not only their fate in the competition but also the destiny of their school.

"Yes, thanks... I'll come by," Red spoke.

It then shows Red Houston, still wearing his Captain uniform, sighing as he contemplates the situation. Back at his school, the boys are embroiled in arguments, and with very few numbers on their side, the challenges ahead seem daunting. Red looks up and sees the Houston family portraits lined up, capturing the legacy of the Houston family from the past to the present. His gaze lingers on a picture of his older brother, Don.

With Don in the hospital, in a coma, Red feels a sense of solitude. Memories flood back from Oshima Island when Don was brainwashed, and even with Anderson alive, the shadow of that traumatic event still looms. Wanting to clear his head, Red decides to leave the Houston manor.

Passing by the small garden, with the sky settling into the sunset, Red kicks a rock away, releasing some frustration. Continuing his walk, he moves past the garden and stands on a small hill. From this vantage point, he looks at the sunset, finding solace in the quiet beauty of the moment.

The small hill becomes a place for Red to reflect, away from the chaos and disagreements at the school. The sunset paints the sky with warm hues, offering a moment of peace amid the turmoil. 

After spending time looking at the sunset Red was watching the sun slowly go down as the nighttime takes over he then hear's Brewster the family butler standing behind and spoke up knowing that Red need's a moment.

"Master Red.... We got guest." Brewster said

"Thanks.... I'll be there soon." Red said still watching the sun continues to fall.

Brewster nods and then leaves Red alone finally watching the sun gone as night came in Red stood there alone as he then sighed to hear a voice spoke up to him.

"Red?" someone spoke up.

"Miho?" Red asked as he turns around to see Miho Nishizumi wearing her Ooaria Girl's Acamdmy uniform Red was surprise to see her as he walked towards the two shared a nice long hug after giving each other a hug Red and Miho looked at each still holding each other close.

"What are you doing here?" Red asked giving a soft smile.

"Well I was just checking on you since after hearing what happened" Miho said

Red held Miho at arm's length, looking into her eyes with a reassuring smile. "I appreciate you coming, Miho. It's been a chaotic day, and having someone familiar around is a welcomed surprise."

Miho nodded, her expression softening. "I heard about the challenges your school is facing. I wanted to see how you were holding up."

Red sighed, the weight of the situation still evident in his eyes. "It's tough, Miho. We've got an S Rank match ahead, and the odds seem stacked against us. Plus, Don..." He trailed off, the concern for his older brother clear in his voice.

Miho squeezed his hand gently. "We'll face this together, Red. You're not alone. Your friends, your team, and I are here to support you."

A small, appreciative smile crossed Red's face. "Thanks, Miho. It means a lot. Sometimes, it feels like the weight of everything is on my shoulders, but having you here makes it easier."

They stood there, under the night sky, finding solace in each other's company. Red felt a sense of strength, knowing that he had someone like Miho by his side. As they walked back towards the Houston manor.

As they walked back, Miho turned to Red and spoke to him.

"Um... Red?" Miho said.

"Yeah," Red answered.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought my friends over; they were also worried about you," Miho explained.

As they entered the house, Red saw Mako, Saori, Yukari, and Hana sitting down in the living room, enjoying the refreshments Brewster had provided. Upon spotting Miho and Red, Saori was the first to speak up.

"Wow, Miho, you and Red look so cute together. It's like you two just got married," Saori remarked.

Red chuckled at Saori's comment, and Miho blushed slightly. 

"Thanks, Saori. It's good to have friends around, especially during times like these," Red replied, gesturing for everyone to sit down.

Miho and Red took a seat, joining their friends. Yukari, the ever-curious tank enthusiast, couldn't contain her excitement.

"So, Red, what's the plan for the S Rank match?" Yukari asked, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Red sighed, glancing at Miho before addressing the group. "Honestly, we're still figuring that out. We're short on numbers, and our Commander is... indisposed. But we'll find a way. We have to."

Just as Red said that, Brewster came in holding a tray of sweets. He set it down, and Red thanked Brewster, telling him it was enough. Brewster acknowledged and left the room.

Hana, sipping her tea, noticed a set of beautiful flowers in a pot nearby. She spoke up, admiring them. "Red, these flowers are beautiful."

"Thanks... Those were my mother's favorite flowers—the yellow rose. It was her favorite flower that we have in this state," Red explained.

"I see," Hana said, still looking at the flowers.

"But what happened to your mother, Red?" Miho asked.

Red fell silent, memories flooding back. The topic was sensitive, a wound that hadn't entirely healed. He remembered the conversation he had with Don about their mother's death. The pain of losing her had been profound, and it still affected Red deeply.

As the girls looked at Red, sensing the sadness in his eyes, Miho realized that it was a sensitive topic for him. She gently touched his hand, offering silent support. The room fell quiet, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air.

Red took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "It was a few years ago. Don found her... our mother, I mean. It hit him hard, and it hit me hard too."

Miho gave Red's hand a comforting squeeze, understanding the pain he felt. The atmosphere in the room became somber, the friends sharing a moment of empathy.

Yukari, always keen on history, looked around the room and noticed the portraits of the Houston legacy adorning the walls. She pointed at a particular portrait of a distinguished man.

"Hey, Red, is that your ancestor?" Yukari asked, pointing at the portrait of Sam Houston.

Red nodded. "Yeah, that's Sam Houston, one of our ancestors. He played a significant role in Texas history, serving as its president. His legacy is a reminder of the resilience and strength that runs in the Houston bloodline."

Yukari, her eyes gleaming with curiosity, continued, "Tell us more about him. I love history!"

Red, with a sense of pride and reverence, began to speak about Sam Houston, aiming to provide a historically accurate portrayal.

"Sam Houston was a towering figure in Texas history. Born in Virginia in 1793, he went on to become a military leader, a politician, and one of the founding fathers of the Republic of Texas. He played a pivotal role in the Texas Revolution, leading the Texan forces to victory at the Battle of San Jacinto in 1836, which eventually led to the creation of the independent Republic of Texas."

"He wasn't just a military leader, though," Red continued. "Sam Houston served as the president of the Republic of Texas twice and later became the state's governor after Texas joined the United States. He was a statesman, advocating for the rights of Native Americans and working towards peaceful coexistence with various ethnic groups in the region."

As Red spoke, Yukari listened intently, fascinated by the historical narrative. The others, too, were absorbed in the tales of Sam Houston's contributions to Texas history.

Red concluded, "His legacy is deeply intertwined with the founding and early years of Texas. The spirit of resilience, independence, and leadership he embodied is something we, as Houstons, carry with us. Even in the face of challenges, his legacy reminds us to stand strong, just as he did during the formative years of our great state."

The room fell into a reflective silence, the weight of history and familial heritage settling among the group. In that moment, they found solace and inspiration in the tales of those who came before them, realizing that the Houston legacy was a source of strength to be drawn upon in their present challenges.

After spending time with Red, he saw them off as they left the Houston Manor. Watching them depart, Red took a moment to collect his thoughts. Feeling the need to clear his head, he decided to unwind by putting on a movie. Opting for a classic, he chose "Star Wars: A New Hope."

As he watched the iconic scenes unfold, Red began to fix his bed, the familiar sound of lightsabers clashing providing a comforting backdrop. With the movie playing, he tucked himself under the covers, settling in for the night.

As he lay there, the film reached the part where Obi-Wan Kenobi meets Luke Skywalker and tends to C-3PO. The dialogue and familiar scenes served as a nostalgic escape, allowing Red to temporarily set aside the challenges and concerns of the day. The glow of the screen and the familiar sounds from a galaxy far, far away provided a sense of peace, creating a moment of solace in the midst of uncertainty.

As Red lay under the covers, the movie reached the iconic scene where Princess Leia's holographic message played. The familiar blue glow of the hologram filled the room as Red listened to Leia's urgent plea:

"General Kenobi, years ago, you served my father in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire."

The scene then shifted to Grand Lake High School's radio room with Vice Commander Joey typing in Morse code. Commander Graham sighed upon hearing the type. The view transitioned to North High School, where Vice Commander Gunther received the message and wrote it down, while Commander Muller patiently waited.

In Washington Boys' and Girls' Academy, one of the Commandos decrypted the message. The scene showed Commander Wesley enjoying his tea time with his Vice Commander Colton.

"I regret that I am unable to present my father's request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack, and I'm afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed."

The scene then shifted to St. Gloriana, with Orange Pekoe writing down the code she received while Darjeeling waited, sipping her tea. It transitioned to Saunders Girls' High School, where Alisa wrote down the relayed message, and then to Pravda High School, where Nonna wrote down the code while Katyusha slept.

"I have placed information vital to the survival of the Rebellion into the memory systems of this R2 unit. My father will know how to retrieve it."

Finally, the scene shifted to Kuromorimine Girls' Academy, with Maho reading the letter received from her radio team.

"You must see this droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan. This is our most desperate hour.

"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi; you're my only hope."

"It's funny how some things in movies can hit close to home," Red mused to himself. "Leia's message, asking for help in their most desperate hour—it's oddly familiar," he said as he continued to watch the full movie.

As a day passed, it showed Timothee walking alongside his Captain, L'Oscurite, as they made their way to their gathering. The scene then shifted to a meeting where General Cards from Lake Travis High and General Jimmy from Thomas Jefferson High were present.

"Cards... and Jimmy, good to see you guys here," Timothee greeted in his French accent.

"Of course, Emperor," Cards and Jimmy responded.

"With the match appearing to be happening soon, let's get our tank count to see how many tanks we'll be using," Timothee suggested.

"Well, me and Cards came to an agreement that for our tank count, it should be two thousand of our tanks combined," Jimmy stated.

"Yeah, and with Davy Crockett used to have that number and with them having to repair their tanks, it won't be on time when the match starts," Cards added.

"Good, then it will be a very easy match," Timothee said, liking the idea of what his other allies proposed.

The stage was set for a challenging confrontation, and as the allies discussed their strategy, the situation appeared increasingly dire for Davy Crockett High School. The match ahead promised to be a formidable test of their resilience and ingenuity.

"It will be at Galveston Island?" Red said.

It shows Red wearing his Captain uniform, sitting in the command tent while the buildings of Davy Crockett High School were being rebuilt. Inside the command tent, Houston and the masked Lieutenant Shadow delivered the news to him.

"Yes, Red, that's where the league has decided the match will start," Shadow said.

"Oh. Well, how about the tanks? How many have we got done so far?" Red asked.

"Only two hundred fifty are good to go, while the others are being heavily repaired. It will take time for the rest of our armor to be ready," Shadow reported.

"We've got the Elite Rangers, Airborne, and some planes here. We just have to use our equipment and vehicles wisely, hoping we won't lose any more of them," Red said.

"Yeah," Shadow agreed, looking down, feeling unsure about facing her old school and her former squad.

"Red, can I ask you something?" Shadow inquired.

"What is it?" Red answered.

"When you and Commander Houston first defected from your old school, the Vermont Tankery Academy, how did you do it when you guys faced your old comrades?" Shadow asked.

Red leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face as he recalled those challenging times. The memories of their defection were still vivid, and he took a moment before responding.

"It wasn't easy, Shadow. Leaving your old comrades, your friends, is never an easy decision. Commander Houston and I knew we couldn't stay there, especially after the direction the school was taking."

He paused, looking down for a moment before meeting Shadow's masked gaze. "We tried to talk to them, to make them see the changes happening and the consequences it could bring. But when they chose to follow orders blindly, even if it meant compromising their principles, we had no choice but to leave."

Shadow nodded, understanding the weight of such decisions. "And now, facing them again, it's not just about tanks and strategy. It's about confronting the choices we made and the consequences they brought."

Red placed a hand on Shadow's shoulder. "We've come a long way since then, and we'll face this together. Whatever happens, we stick together, and we won't compromise our principles."

Shadow nodded again, appreciating the reassurance. Until the command tent was then opened showing Dean as he then spoke up.

"Hey Red, you need to see this," Dean said.

With that, Red got up from his chair and went outside. What he saw was surprising: the assembly of the Tankery Team yard was filled with many people. Grand Lake High, Washington Boys' and Girls' Academy, North High, St. Gloriana, Saunders Girls' High, Pravda Girls' High, Ooarai Girls' Academy, and finally, Kuromorimine Girls' Academy were all present.

It showed Sean, Gus, and Hector passing each of Davy Crockett tankers' uniforms, while the infantry boys from Grand Lake, North, and Washington began putting on the Davy Crockett Rangers' uniforms. The unity among the schools was evident as they prepared for the upcoming match.

Red observed the scene, a mix of surprise and gratitude in his eyes. The solidarity displayed by the other schools was a powerful reminder of the bonds forged through Tankery. It was a collective effort, a demonstration that, despite the competitive nature of the matches, there was a shared understanding and camaraderie among the tankers.

Dean clapped Red on the shoulder. "Looks like we've got allies from unexpected places, Red. Seems like everyone's rallying behind us."

Red nodded, appreciating the unexpected show of support that he saw.

While the transfers were getting settled among the schools, the girls from Ooarai Girls' Academy, who were outside of their tanks, observed the boys from Grand Lake High, North High, and Washington getting their uniforms.

Among them, one tank stood out—the British Mark IV with the pirate flag on top. This caught the attention of many, including the Rangers, who couldn't help but comment on the unusual sight.

"Pirates?" one of the Rangers said.

"This is something new," another Ranger remarked.

"Yeah, right," a third Ranger added.

As the Shark Team stood outside of their tank, Ogin, the tank commander, took a good look around. She was somewhat shocked to see American boys in uniforms, even though she and her crew usually spent their time in the bar below Ooarai's ship decks.

"So, this is the so-called Elite Rangers I heard about," Ogin said as she continued to look around.

"They don't look elite, considering what they call themselves," Murakami said, joining her team leader.

"I mean, look at them," Rum said, holding her bottle as she pointed at one section of the Rangers.

(That one section of Rangers)

It showed a couple of the Rangers who were shirtless, working out. Some were lifting weights, while another group of Rangers, wearing their full gear, continued their march. Another group surrounded the ice cream truck, getting their ice cream. One shirtless Ranger leaned against the truck, holding his ice cream.

Another shirtless Ranger flexed his muscles, while two others engaged in an arm-wrestling match. Finally, two more shirtless Rangers, one holding the punching bag, accidentally got a bit too enthusiastic, and the puncher ended up hitting his buddy square in the face. He quickly apologized for his unintended blow.

The Shark Team observed the Rangers' antics with a mix of amusement and bemusement. The unconventional and carefree approach of the Elite Rangers was certainly a departure from the traditional image of a military unit.

As the Shark Team observed the Elite Rangers' antics, other girls from Ooarai Girls' Academy started sharing their own opinions and observations.

Mako, known for her calm and sleepy demeanor, commented from the sidelines, "They're certainly... unique, aren't they?"

Yukari, the ever-enthusiastic tank enthusiast, was furiously scribbling notes in her notebook. "I've never seen a tank crew like this before! This is definitely going in my tankery report!"

Saori, the cheerful and talkative member of the Anglerfish Team, chimed in, "Well, they do seem to know how to have fun. Maybe we should try some of their workout routines?"

Miho, the level-headed and caring leader, observed quietly. "Different teams have different ways of bonding. Let's respect their style and focus on preparing for the match."

While the Ooarai Girls' Academy members were observing the Elite Rangers, representatives from other schools like Kuromorimine, St. Gloriana, Saunders Girls High, and Pravda Girls High were also watching the unfolding scene with various reactions.

The Kuromorimine Girls, led by Maho, maintained their stoic demeanor, watching with a blend of curiosity and reserved judgment. Erika, a dedicated tank commander from Kuromorimine, raised an eyebrow at the Rangers' unconventional behavior. "This is not how we operate at Kuromorimine," she commented, her tone reflecting the disciplined nature of her school.

St. Gloriana's Darjeeling, sipping her tea elegantly, observed the Rangers with a bemused smile. "An interesting display of camaraderie. Quite different from the refined traditions of St. Gloriana, wouldn't you say, Orange Pekoe?"

"Yes, Darjeeling. It's certainly a unique approach," Orange Pekoe replied, sharing her school leader's sentiments.

Kay, the exuberant commander of Saunders Girls High School, chuckled. "These Americans sure know how to have a good time. Maybe we can borrow a few ideas for our own team."

Pravda Girls High, with their emphasis on teamwork and endurance, exchanged glances as they observed. Katyusha, the petite but determined commander, shrugged and said, "Everyone has their way of doing things. Let's see how effective it is on the battlefield."

It then cuts back to the hospital with Houston still in a coma, the sound of the machines beeping and the oxygen pumping through his nasal tubes. The door of the room opens and closes, and the sound of footsteps walks inside.

As the person enters the room, he stares at Houston's body, seeing him hooked up to machines and covered in bandages. The person takes a couple of steps and then speaks up.

"Houston... I know you can hear me," a voice speaks up. The person in the room sounds like a young boy.

"It's really good to see you, to see one of Vermont's Dog of War members here. Am I right, 'Spector of Death'? I know that was your old code name that you used back then, ever since Vermont Tankery Academy was around until you shut it down. I could see why the America Tankery League chose you to be a special icon to lead the people," the boy said as he continues to stand in the room.

"Ever since Anderson wanted to control the guns of the world and secure the funds of the league and the old Association so he could complete his plan. But yet again, you stopped him, which you resented him, not wanting him to control you as a puppet anymore. However, you built yourself a legacy so that everyone knows about you—the hero of the 'Dallas Incident' and 'Oshima Island Incident.' You created your memes, but there's one thing that has changed," the boy said.

"War has changed. Sooner or later, when the match starts, it will no longer be about states, ideologies, nations, or ethnicity. It will be an endless war game series of battles fought by the younger generations. Soon, it will be a consumption of life and will become a well-oiled machine. When the battlefield gets under control, the war game that you and your friends participated in will make the war game become a routine that we all become a part of," the boy concluded.

The boy continued, his voice carrying an air of authority and a hint of cold determination.

"War has changed, Houston. It's no longer about nations, ideologies, or ethnicities. The only truth we find on the battlefield now is that the war game has become routine. You, the hero of countless incidents, played your part in this grand theater."

He walked closer to Houston's bedside, the click of his boots echoing in the sterile room. The boy's features were hidden beneath a well-tailored suit, his expression masked by a pair of sunglasses.

"Your legacy, the 'Spector of Death,' is more than just a code name. It's a reminder that war and conflict have always been a part of humanity's nature. And now, as the younger generation takes the stage, they'll continue this legacy, turning war into a well-orchestrated dance."

He paused, his gaze fixed on Houston's unconscious form. "You fought against Anderson's machinations, but the machine of war keeps grinding. It adapts and evolves, consuming all in its path. The America Tankery League, the battles you fought—they are all part of this cycle."

The boy then reached into his pocket and produced a small, ornate box. Opening it, he revealed a pristine chess piece – a king. He placed it gently on the bedside table, the symbolism not lost on the room.

"The pieces are set, Houston. The match on Galveston Island is just another move in this grand game. You may not see it, but your legacy lives on, shaping the destiny of those who follow in your footsteps."

With a last contemplative glance at Houston, the boy turned and left the room, his footsteps fading away as he disappeared into the hospital corridor. The sound of the machines and the rhythmic beeping continued, filling the room with an eerie sense of anticipation.

As the boy walked away, his steps echoing in the sterile hallway, he muttered to himself with a hint of contemplation.

"Red Houston, the younger brother, treading the path laid by his elder. The bloodline carries the burden of legacy, and soon he'll understand the weight of it all. The heroics, the sacrifices – they become the shackles that bind, and in the end, they'll realize that they're just pawns in a game much larger than themselves."

He adjusted his sunglasses, the glint of cold determination reflecting in the lenses. "The younger ones always think they can change the world, break free from the cycle. But in the end, they succumb to the inevitability of the battlefield. Red Houston will face his trials, just like his brother did."

The boy disappeared around the corner, leaving behind a sense of foreboding. The hospital corridor returned to silence, with only the steady hum of machinery to accompany Houston's unconscious form. The chess piece, the king, stood as a silent witness to the unfolding drama, as if the room itself held its breath, awaiting the next move in the intricate game of war.

https://youtu.be/P-X-iHTe5PI