Operation Gothic Serpent Part 1

"Good morning, America. I'm David Muir, and today, I'll be uncovering the latest news," David said as he sat at the news desk.

As he reported on current events in the United States, he moved on to explain what was happening around the world. After wrapping up the segment, he flipped through his notes and began addressing those tuning in.

"And in other news, after the American Tankery Association concluded its nine-month match against the Japanese Sensha-Do Federation, the Federation's official commander, Akari Adachi, is now in Japanese custody, serving her sentence for committing war crimes.

In a major development, both the American Tankery Association and the Sensha-Do Federation have officially shut down their tankery programs. Schools in America that were part of the Association are either selling their tanks and equipment or joining the American Tankery League. Speaking of the League, the organization's owner has announced that five major schools, which participated in the S-Rank match against Groton High School and their allies, are now occupying the island where the Association held its final match against the Sensha-Do Federation.

The schools involved are Davy Crockett High, Grand Lake High, North High, Washington Boys' and Girls' Academy, and Kansas Chief High. Each school has sent a portion of their units to occupy Tomodachi Island. We now go live to Joyce, one of our reporters on the scene, who is speaking with the League owner to understand why he convinced these schools' commanders to send their units to the island. Joyce?"

Joyce appeared on screen, standing next to the League's CEO and President as she began the interview.

"Thank you, David. I'm here with the owner of the American Tankery League, who has been instrumental in orchestrating the current occupation of Tomodachi Island. Many are wondering why he convinced the commanders of five major high schools to send their units to the island. So, sir, could you explain the reason behind this decision?"

The League President nodded and addressed the camera.

"Of course. The primary reason we've mobilized these five schools—Davy Crockett High, Grand Lake High, North High, Washington Boys' and Girls' Academy, and Kansas Chief High—is to recover the funds lost due to Groton High School's fraudulent activities. Groton High, as you may know, funneled resources into creating the P-1000 A.I. tank, a project that cost the Association millions. That tank was scrapped, thanks to the efforts of Lieutenant Colonel Doyal Houston, but the financial damage still needs to be repaired."

He paused for a moment before continuing, "By occupying the island, we can begin to restore what was lost. The presence of these five schools is also strategic, as they will ensure a stable transition when the former Association schools like Uncle Sam High, Edison High, Montana Tankery Academy, Virginia Academy of Arts, and Japanese schools like Kuromorimine Girls' Academy, Saunders University High School, St. Gloriana Girls' College, Pravda Girls' High School, and Ooarai Girls' Academy conclude their activities on the island. Once those schools complete their weekday operations, the League will take over. Our plan is to establish a permanent base on the island to host future tankery matches, which will help the League recover the lost funds and solidify its position as the top Tankery organization."

Joyce then asked, "And what about Davy Crockett High's involvement? We understand their commander is none other than Don Houston, nephew of Lieutenant Colonel Doyal Houston. How does 'Big Boss' feel about his boys being sent to the island?"

The League President smiled slightly, acknowledging the question.

"Ah, yes, Don Houston. He's earned his rank not only through his strategic skills but also by displaying true patriotism, which the President of the United States recognized after he played a key role in destroying the P-1000 A.I. tank. Initially, He was hesitant, knowing the importance of his leadership at Davy Crockett High, but Don proved his dedication. Eventually, he agreed to send 25 percent of his Rangers to the island. Every other school involved has followed suit, sending 25 percent of their forces to ensure the occupation is successful."

Joyce nodded, then followed up, "So what's next for the League? What will this occupation mean for the future of tankery in America?"

The League President responded confidently, "This occupation is just the beginning. We're rebuilding from the ground up, and Tomodachi Island will be at the heart of the League's future, hosting matches and helping us rise to new heights."

Joyce smiled as she wrapped up the interview.

"Thank you for your time and for sharing such valuable insight. It's clear the American Tankery League has big plans for the future, and we'll be closely following how things develop on Tomodachi Island."

The League President nodded. "Thank you, Joyce. We appreciate your support and look forward to the future of tankery in America."

Turning back to the camera, Joyce addressed the audience.

"Well, there you have it, David. With the shutdown of the American Tankery Association and Sensha-Do Federation, the League is stepping in to reshape the future of competitive tankery. The decision to send units from five major schools to occupy Tomodachi Island is not just a strategic move, but a financial recovery effort following the fallout from Groton High School's illegal activities. And as we've just heard, leaders like Don Houston and other commanders are playing a key role in this transition. It looks like the next chapter in American tankery is about to begin, with Tomodachi Island at its center."

She smiled confidently.

"I'm Joyce, reporting live from Tomodachi Island. Back to you, David."

The camera shifted back to David Muir at the news desk, who nodded appreciatively.

"Thank you, Joyce. A fascinating look into the future of tankery. We'll continue to keep you updated as events unfold on the island and beyond."

The scene shifted away from the news report, and the TV was turned off, leaving the room dimly lit. Houston turned around, facing his fellow commanders—Graham, Muller, Elijah, and Wesley—who were still dressed in their school commander uniforms. In contrast, Houston wore his trench coat, with his own uniform barely visible underneath, as he rubbed his left eye, exhaustion clear on his face.

"So much for that..." Houston muttered, a weary edge in his voice.

"Yeah, and don't get me started on the paperwork they're sending us," Graham groaned, his head resting on the table, too drained to maintain his usual Hollywood charm. Across from him, Muller glanced over at the Grand Lake High commander, his eyes heavy with fatigue.

"You can say that again. And with the Association high schools and those Japanese schools still on the island, things are getting worse. Just yesterday, I got a radio report from my Vice Commander. One of my patrols was attacked by some boys from Montana Tankery Academy. They were protesting our presence, throwing bottles at my men. Now, one of those boys is sitting in a holding cell," Muller said, his German accent adding weight to his frustration. His Wehrmacht officer's hat lay on the table next to him, his dark blond hair disheveled.

Wesley, the Washington Boys' Academy commander, chimed in with his English accent, taking a sip of tea, "I can't say I'm surprised, mate. They don't like us being on that island, that's for sure."

Elijah, arms crossed, leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Well, we're just doing our jobs. The League put us here because they can't afford to occupy the island themselves. They assigned us to clean up this mess, so I'm not sure why anyone's mad at us."

Houston, more silent than usual, sighed deeply and pulled out a cigar from his trench coat pocket, along with a lighter. Though he typically smoked cigarettes, he'd tried a cigar once and liked the flavor, so it became a rare habit. Despite being young, Houston didn't care much about convention and lit the cigar, the smoke curling lazily around him. He stared off in thought as he puffed quietly, a contrast to the tension in the room.

Graham, still with his head on the table, slowly lifted his gaze toward Houston. Noticing the cigar in his hand, he couldn't resist a tired joke.

"Damn, Houston, I never thought you'd be a cigar smoker..." Graham said with a weak smirk, his exhaustion turning the comment into more of a dry observation than a tease.

Houston chuckled softly, taking a slow drag from the cigar. "Yeah, well... life's full of surprises." He exhaled a cloud of smoke and leaned back in his chair. "Guess this is just one more thing to add to the list."

The other commanders glanced at each other, their shared exhaustion uniting them in silence for a brief moment. They knew this occupation wasn't going to be easy, but none of them had expected this level of resistance—or frustration.

"Any ideas on how we handle this?" Muller asked, looking between them.

Houston let out another sigh, leaning forward slightly. "We keep doing what we're told. Hold the island. Deal with the Association and the Sensha-Do schools as they come. But something tells me this won't get easier anytime soon."

The room fell quiet again, the soft crackling of Houston's cigar the only sound, as the weight of their situation hung heavily in the air.

The room lingered in silence, each commander lost in their own thoughts. The smell of Houston's cigar filled the air, mixing with the tension already hanging heavily between them. Graham shifted in his chair, looking over at Houston, who was still puffing away, blowing smoke rings into the dim room.

Graham raised an eyebrow, trying to lift the mood a bit. "You know, Houston, you really should quit smoking those things. They're bad for you. Isn't that what everyone says?"

Houston smirked, taking another slow drag from the cigar, clearly unfazed. "Yeah, they say that. But have you ever actually tasted one of these?" He leaned forward, tapping the ash into a tray. "There's something about it... rich, earthy. That deep, smoky flavor—it's almost like drinking a glass of aged bourbon, but better. Helps me think. Clears the head."

Wesley chuckled, shaking his head. "Sounds like you've got it all figured out, mate. But I reckon your head medic back at Davy Crockett, what's his name—Ben, right? I bet he's got something to say about you smoking those."

Houston let out a short laugh, remembering all too well the head medic of Davy Crockett High, Ben. "Oh, Ben? Yeah, he's been on my case for a while now. Every time he catches me smoking, he gives me the same old speech about lung damage, cancer, yada yada." Houston made a vague hand gesture. "He's tried just about everything to get me to quit—confiscating my packs, replacing them with gum. Once, he even swapped out my cigars with some cheap knockoffs." He shook his head with a grin. "But, you know, he never wins."

Elijah leaned back, crossing his arms, smiling as he joined in. "Sounds like he's dedicated. How do you deal with that?"

Houston took another slow drag, his eyes half-closed as he spoke. "You just let him vent. Ben's a good guy, one of the best medics I've ever known. But when it comes to my smoking? He's fighting a losing battle." He blew out a thin stream of smoke. "I told him once, 'If the cigars don't get me, the stress of dealing with this island and the League might.' After that, he just kind of shrugged and gave up trying to make me quit."

The commanders all shared a quiet laugh, the atmosphere lightening a little, though the fatigue in the room was still palpable.

"Well," Muller said, rubbing his eyes, "if the cigars help you keep your sanity dealing with this mess, then I guess we can't blame you. Just don't go setting off the smoke alarms in here, ja?"

Houston chuckled, tapping his cigar against the ashtray once more. "No promises, Muller. But I'll try not to burn the place down."

Wesley took another sip of his tea, a grin spreading across his face. "I bet Ben's probably somewhere right now, planning his next move to get you to quit."

Houston smirked again. "Yeah, well, he's going to need a better plan next time." He leaned back, blowing out another puff of smoke, clearly enjoying the small bit of amusement the conversation had brought to the room.

Meanwhile, back on the island...

A convoy of Davy Crockett High Humvees made its way through the bustling streets of Hoja, the city where the school's forces were stationed. Red Houston, dressed in his Airborne uniform, his helmet firmly on his head, casually chewed gum as he stared out the passenger-side window. The people of the island went about their business, occasionally casting curious glances at the passing military vehicles.

Inside the Humvee, Red jammed quietly to the song playing over the radio, "Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang" by Silver, nodding his head to the rhythm. He began to sing along under his breath, enjoying the brief distraction.

"Starry nights, sunny days,
I always thought that love should be that way,
Then comes a time that you're ridden with doubt.
You've loved all you can, and now you're all loved out.
Oooh, oooh, baby, we've been a long, long way..."

The Rangers in the Humvee exchanged amused glances as their captain seemed to be enjoying the moment, despite the serious nature of their mission.

The convoy rolled up to the gates of the headquarters where Vice Commander Gunther was located. A pair of guards approached the lead Humvee, checking the driver's identification and paperwork. Once everything checked out, the guard motioned to the gatekeeper, and the gates swung open, allowing the four Humvees to enter.

The vehicles came to a halt in the parking area. Red stepped out, looking up at the bright sky before sliding on his sunglasses. The Rangers followed closely behind him, forming a disciplined line as they made their way toward the building.

Inside, the headquarters was a mix of different factions. North High's Wehrmacht infantry patrolled the hallways alongside Washington Boys' and Girls' Academy Commandos, Kansas Chief High Comanches, and Grand Lake High Soviet soldiers. The tension in the air was palpable, the various groups on edge as they maintained their positions.

As Red approached the door to the meeting room, the soldiers guarding it snapped to attention and saluted him. He returned the gesture before turning to his men.

"Stay here and secure the area. I'll go in alone," Red ordered, his voice calm but commanding.

His Rangers nodded, taking up positions around the hallway while Red entered the room alone.

Inside, the atmosphere was just as tense. Vice Commander Joey, donning his Soviet uniform, sat next to Archie, who wore his Commando gear. Across from them, Vice Commander Achak of the Kansas Chief Comanches sat with his arms crossed, watching the proceedings with a stoic expression. At the far end of the room, Gunther, dressed in his Wehrmacht uniform, was locked in a heated argument with Captain Ludwig, another North High officer. The two Germans were speaking rapidly in their native tongue, clearly disagreeing about something.

Gunther slammed his hand on the table. "We cannot keep this boy locked up! He's just a kid from Montana Tankery Academy. Let him go, Ludwig!"

Captain Ludwig shook his head firmly. "Nein! He assaulted one of our men. We can't let that slide. There have to be consequences, Gunther!"

Red raised an eyebrow as he approached the table. "What's going on here?"

Gunther looked over, relieved to see Red. "Captain Houston. We've got a bit of a situation. A boy from Montana Tankery Academy attacked one of our patrols. Ludwig wants to throw the book at him, but I think we should let him go. He's just a kid—he doesn't deserve to rot in a cell over a protest gone wrong."

Red crossed his arms, listening carefully before addressing both officers. "Look, I get both sides of this. We can't have people throwing bottles at our soldiers, but at the same time, this is a tense situation. We need to keep things from escalating."

Ludwig glared at Red, clearly unhappy with the suggestion. "And what would you suggest, Captain? Just let him go with a slap on the wrist?"

Red shook his head. "No, we don't let him off easy, but we don't need to make this a bigger deal than it already is. Have him apologize to the soldier he attacked, and make him work off the damages. That way, he learns his lesson without us looking like tyrants."

Gunther nodded, clearly in agreement. "That's a fair compromise. We don't need more bad blood here, especially with tensions already so high."

Ludwig grumbled but reluctantly nodded. "Fine. But if there's another incident, we won't be so lenient."

Red sighed, turning toward the rest of the room. "So, what else is on the agenda for today?"

Joey leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. "We've still got protests from some of the other schools—Montana's boys aren't the only ones unhappy about us being here. We need to figure out how to handle that."

Red rubbed his chin, thinking. "We're just following the League's orders, but maybe we need to make it clearer why we're here—to keep things peaceful and secure, not to take over. I'll talk to my guys and make sure they're handling things by the book."

Meanwhile, outside...

A patrol of Rangers made their way down the street of the city, their M16A2 airsoft weapons slung across their shoulders. As they walked, one of the patrolmen began singing, his voice echoing down the street. The others soon joined in, their voices harmonizing as they kept their eyes on the road.

"In the land of dopey dreams, lovely peaceful Philippines,

When the bolo man is hiking night and day.

When Tagalogs steal and lie and americanos die,

There you hear the soldiers sing this evening lay...

Damn, damn, damn the Filipinos,

Cross-eyed ladrones underneath our starry flag,

Civilize 'em with a Krag, and return us to our own beloved home."

The group continued their patrol, their song fading as they marched down their sector.

Not far from them, Mark and Austin were walking down the sidewalk, both clearly uneasy seeing their fellow Texans on patrol in a foreign land. The sight of their people here, even with airsoft weapons, stirred uncomfortable feelings between them.

"I can't believe this, man," Mark muttered, shaking his head. "First, after everything we went through—especially you, man, when Akari tortured us. You fought that bear, and now things are going to hell all over again."

Austin grimaced, watching a halftrack filled with Wehrmacht troops rumble by. "Yeah, well, there's not much we can do now. We did what we had to, stopping that greedy bastard from taking over Tankery, but we didn't count on the League swooping in like this."

Mark sighed in agreement. "We really didn't think this one through."

As they continued their conversation, a voice called out to them from behind.

"Austin! Mark!"

They turned to see Nina and the rest of the KV-2 crew running toward them, panic evident on their faces.

"What's wrong?" Austin asked, concerned.

"It's Nonna!" Nina panted. "She's being assaulted by one of the League's boys!"

Hearing this, Austin's expression darkened. He glanced at Mark, who looked equally furious. Without hesitation, Austin took off running in the direction Nina was pointing, with Mark following closely behind.

When they arrived at the scene, it was worse than they imagined. Katyusha was standing between Nonna and a group of Rangers, trying to protect her, but one of the Rangers shoved her to the ground.

"Get the fuck away!" one of the Rangers barked, raising his weapon threateningly.

"Move!" another Ranger ordered, pushing forward with his rifle raised.

"You bastards!" Nonna spat, trying to get back to her feet, but a Ranger stepped forward and jabbed the butt of his airsoft rifle into her chest, knocking her back down.

"Sit the fuck down!" the Ranger yelled, hitting Nonna across the face with the butt of his weapon.

That was the last straw for Austin. Seeing his girlfriend being assaulted, he charged forward without thinking, tackling the Ranger to the ground. The two of them wrestled violently on the pavement, fists flying as they grappled for control.

"Get off him!" another Ranger shouted, rushing forward to separate them, but Mark stepped in, trying to pull Austin away from the fight.

"Austin, stop!" Mark yelled, struggling to get his friend under control.

In the chaos, Austin managed to grab the Ranger's airsoft pistol from its holster. Without hesitation, he fired a shot directly into the Ranger's chest. The Ranger, as part of the airsoft rules, immediately acted as if he had been shot and collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest.

That single act caused everything to spiral out of control.

"Man down! Man down!" one of the Rangers screamed into his radio, escalating the situation. In response, the other Rangers raised their weapons and opened fire, peppering the area with plastic airsoft pellets.

"Shit, run!" Mark shouted, grabbing Austin by the arm as the two of them sprinted away.

Nonna, still dazed, was pulled to her feet by Katyusha and Nina as they desperately tried to retreat. The Rangers continued firing at them, the crack of airsoft rounds echoing through the narrow streets. They dragged their fake "dead" comrade away, radioing in for reinforcements as the skirmish unfolded.

"Team Alpha, we've got a situation! Civilians engaging Rangers—one man down, over!" a voice crackled over the radio as the patrol began to mobilize more forces.

Austin, Mark, Nonna, and the others ran as fast as they could, darting through alleys and side streets as airsoft pellets ricocheted off walls and vehicles around them. Their hearts pounded in their chests as they desperately tried to get away from the escalating conflict.

Back inside the meeting room...

Red stood with Archie, Gunther, Achak, and Joey as they worked to solve the issue of the Montana Tankery Academy prisoner. The argument between Gunther and Captain Ludwig continued for a few more minutes, but eventually, calmer heads prevailed. Red leaned back in his chair, his aviators perched on his nose, chewing gum with a smirk that could only be described as "Maverick from Top Gun."

"Look, guys," Red said with a cocky grin, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "This ain't the time for all this back and forth. Let's just cut the kid loose. Send him back to his friends with a warning. No one got seriously hurt, right? We've got bigger problems to deal with than one kid chucking bottles. Let's smooth things over, show we're the bigger people here."

Archie nodded, crossing his arms. "I agree. The last thing we need is more tension on this island."

Achak, the Kansas Chief High Comanche Commander, grunted in agreement. "We've got a lot of friction already. No need to fan the flames."

Joey, Grand Lake's Soviet Vice Commander, tapped his fingers on the table, his thick accent carrying his approval. "Da. Better to solve this peacefully. We need to keep focus on the real threats."

Gunther sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But Ludwig, make sure the kid understands there won't be a next time."

Captain Ludwig, though still clearly frustrated, gave a sharp nod. "Understood."

With the decision made, they called in the Montana Tankery Academy student's friends to collect him. The exchange was tense but orderly, with the boy being returned without further incident. It seemed like the crisis had been averted.

"Well, that's one less problem to deal with," Red quipped, standing up and stretching, his aviators glinting in the light.

Just as things seemed to be calming down, a sharp voice crackled over the radio, cutting through the room like a knife.

"Command, we've got a situation! Patrol group Alpha is under attack. Civilians are throwing rocks and bottles. Repeat, we're under attack!"

Red immediately stopped chewing his gum, the casual grin on his face vanishing. Gunther grabbed the radio, his voice steady but urgent. "This is Gunther. What's the situation, Alpha?"

The voice on the other end was panicked. "They're getting more aggressive! It's escalating fast! And... oh shit... the Association schools are marching toward us—this time they're armed and they want a fight!"

The air in the room thickened with tension. Red looked around at the others, all of them now fully alert. This was no longer a minor incident.

Gunther wasted no time. "We need to evacuate immediately. This is going to spiral out of control if we stay here."

Red nodded sharply. "We're heading back to the vehicles now."

Archie, Achak, Joey, and the rest quickly grabbed their gear and moved out, leaving the meeting room behind as they raced toward the motor pool. The courtyard was already a flurry of activity, with vehicles starting up and soldiers scrambling to their positions.

Red ran alongside the others, barking orders at the Rangers and other forces nearby. "Get everyone to their vehicles! We're pulling out now before this gets worse!"

The humvees and halftracks rumbled to life, engines roaring as the commanders climbed in. Red jumped into the lead vehicle, slipping on his aviators once more as he slid into the driver's seat. "Let's move out! We've got to regroup before things get even messier."

Gunther, climbing into his own vehicle, grabbed his radio again. "All units, this is Vice Commander Gunther. We're initiating an emergency evac. Get all personnel to their assigned transports and prepare for immediate departure. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. We are not starting a war today."

As the convoy moved through the chaotic streets, the scene became more desperate. Rangers dragged their wounded back to the humvees while the Wehrmacht infantry boys provided covering fire. The sound of airsoft weapons echoed in the air like a warzone.

Archie ducked behind one of the vehicles as rocks and debris rained down from above. "Well, it's too late now, mate!" he shouted to Red.

Red watched the situation unfold, tension visible in his stance. Rangers were loading their injured comrades into the humvees, the sound of airsoft guns and shouts filling the air. Dean, the third-in-command, rushed up to him, his face grim.

"This isn't looking good, Red," Dean said urgently. "We have to move now before our exit closes."

Red nodded, a serious expression replacing his usual confidence. "Yeah, I know. My brother's not gonna like hearing about this mess..."

More airsoft shots rang out, closer this time.

Dean glanced back at the convoy, his jaw tight. "Of course not, but right now, we need to focus on getting out. I'll lead the first humvee."

"Roger that," Red said, knowing they had no other choice but to move fast.

As the Rangers finished loading the wounded, one slapped the side of the humvee, signaling it was time to move.

"Move out!" a Ranger shouted.

"Go! Go! Go!" Another motioned the convoy to roll.

Dean climbed into the lead humvee, his usual calm demeanor giving way to the intensity of the moment. The gunner atop the humvee cocked the airsoft .50 cal machine gun, loading it in preparation for what lay ahead. The convoy revved up, and the vehicles started to roll out.

Back at Davy Crockett High's Command Center...

Houston paced in front of the screens, his face hardened as he listened to the chaotic reports coming in from the island. Jefferson stood beside him, equally grim.

"What the hell caused this?" Houston asked, frustration clear in his voice.

Jefferson shook his head. "Not sure, boss, but things aren't looking great. We've got heavy resistance out there, and they're armed. It's not just a few rock throwers anymore."

Houston gritted his teeth as they tuned in to the radio chatter from the convoy, listening as Red and his team tried to escape the escalating chaos.

Back on the Island...

The humvees sped through the narrow streets, dodging debris and gunfire. Edison High School boys had stolen airsoft weapons from a North High shipment and were now using them to ambush the escaping convoy. The lead humvee, driven by Dean, made a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding a pile of rubble as airsoft rounds pinged off the armored sides.

"Where the hell did these guys get our airsoft weapons?!" one of the Rangers inside shouted, leaning out the window to fire back.

Dean, behind the wheel, swore under his breath. "They must've hit the North High shipment... Damn it!"

The convoy twisted through the streets, airsoft fire coming from all sides. Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, then barked an order. "Switch with me! I'm getting on the gun!"

The driver immediately shifted as Dean grabbed the wheel briefly, then climbed up to man the .50 cal airsoft machine gun. As soon as he took control, Dean unleashed a volley of suppressive fire, the powerful sound of the airsoft machine gun thudding against the growing chaos. Plastic BBs sprayed the windows and alleyways where the Edison boys were shooting from, forcing them to take cover.

"Light 'em up!" Dean shouted over the roar of the engine and gunfire.

Inside the lead humvee, the tension was palpable. The Rangers exchanged worried glances as they fired from the windows, trying to keep the enemy at bay. Sean, sitting next to Corporal Hector, looked back just in time to see an Edison boy pop out of an alley and fire a burst from a stolen airsoft rifle. The BBs struck Hector, and he let out a groan, clutching his neck as he pretended to be shot.

"Hector is hit!" Sean yelled, his voice shaking as he grabbed his friend.

"This place is fucked up!" Gus, another Ranger, shouted in panic as he reloaded.

Dean glanced back at his squad from his position atop the humvee, his knuckles white as he gripped the handles of the machine gun. Red's voice crackled over the radio. "Dean! Is anyone hit? Talk to me!"

Dean gritted his teeth, his eyes scanning the streets ahead as more gunfire erupted. "Corporal Hector's been marked!" he responded.

Red's voice came through again, more urgent this time. "What's his status? Confirm!"

"Hector is marked! He's out!" Dean repeated, signaling that Hector was simulating death according to airsoft rules.

Back at Davy Crockett Command Center...

Houston slammed his fist down on the table as he heard the news over the radio. "Damn it!" he muttered.

Jefferson shook his head, listening closely. "This isn't good... We've already got casualties."

The radio continued to buzz with frantic reports as the convoy fought its way through the city streets.

Back on the Island...

The humvees roared through a narrow alley, barely fitting as they took a tight turn. Another volley of airsoft fire erupted from the rooftops, and Dean swung the .50 cal to return fire, spraying the area with BBs.

"Keep pushing forward!" Dean shouted, trying to maintain control of the situation. "We're almost out!"

Ranger 2-1, Red's humvee, continued to provide cover as they cleared a path through the city. The Edison boys had scattered, but some were still firing from hidden positions, making the escape chaotic.

Red grabbed the radio again, his voice steady despite the chaos. "Ranger 2-1 to CP. We've got one marked in the city. Hector's down, but we're still moving. ETA to evac point: five minutes."

As the convoy made another sharp turn, the city's outskirts finally came into view. They could see the clear path ahead, leading to the highway and out of the chaos.

Dean, still manning the .50 cal, took a deep breath, looking back at his squad as they sped through the exit. "We're almost there, boys. Hold it together!"

The humvees roared down the road, leaving the city and its chaos behind, but the tension remained.

Back in the city, an eerie silence had settled over the streets after driving the League's High Schools away. The tension hung heavy, and everyone knew the implications of what had just happened.

Austin, taking a moment, checked on Nonna to make sure she was okay. "You okay?" he asked, his concern evident.

Nonna gave a small nod, still shaken but grateful. "I'm fine... Thanks, Austin, for saving me."

Austin gave her a warm smile, feeling relieved. "Anytime."

Before they could share another word, Marks, standing nearby, smirked. "Well, ain't that swell. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," he teased, turning to walk away. But his steps froze as he spotted Edward, Maho, Johanton, Davis, Rivers, Darjeeling, Kay, and Miho approaching. They'd heard what happened to Katyusha and Nonna and weren't happy about it.

Kay, arms crossed, shook her head. "I can't believe those Rangers did that to her."

Johnanton, equally angry, scowled. "Well, those bastards got what was coming."

Edward stood nearby, his eyes serious. "Yeah, but now we've started a war."

Davis, overhearing, wheeled around, his frustration boiling over. "We started it?!" He stalked toward Edward, anger flashing in his eyes. "I'm sorry, but whose brilliant idea was it to come here after we finished our year-long match to occupy this island? The League sent their guys here. They're the ones who started this mess!"

Edward, cool under the pressure, shot a glance toward Johanton, who had organized the theft of the airsoft weapons. "And now they're going to send in more because we marked some of their boys and stole their equipment to drive them out."

"It doesn't matter who started it now." Darjeeling stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "This was bound to happen. We all knew it."

Miho, thoughtful as ever, posed the real question. "But how will the other League High Schools respond to this?"

Rivers let out a dry laugh. "To be honest? They're probably gonna capture all of us and 'execute' us," he said, quoting with his fingers, a mix of sarcasm and fear lacing his words.

A tense silence followed as the gravity of the situation sank in. They had gone too far, and now the entire League would be after them.

Edward rubbed the back of his neck, clearly troubled. "It doesn't matter who's to blame. What matters is that we were supposed to leave tomorrow. But after what we've done... I don't think the League will let us go. Not after this."

The group exchanged worried glances, each of them realizing that the conflict they thought was over had only just begun.