Operation Gothic Finale 

With "California Dreaming" playing on the radio, a large force from the American Tankery League is shown gathering around the Davy Crockett High City outpost in New Avalon. Boys from the league are walking down as various league schools convene, setting the stage. Joey, Achak, and Gunther are relieved to finally see their commanders arrive on the island, while Wesley checks in with his Commando Captain, Archie. The Scottish captain provides Wesley with a full report of what has transpired.

As many of the boys, finally rescued from the city, are checked by medics, Houston watches a reunion between Rangers who had been sent to Tomodachi Island. They embrace, overjoyed to see each other again. As Houston observes this, the helicopters belonging to the league fly overhead, showing camera crews recording live footage. The world is now watching the league-selected schools, such as Grand Lake High, Davy Crockett High, North High, Washington Boys' and Girls' Academy, and Kansas Chief High.

With the match drawing global attention, Houston sighs. Despite knowing how much money the league will make from the spectacle, he remains indifferent and heads to his command tent, which his loyal Rangers have already set up.

**Meanwhile, in Hoja City:**

Many of the Association's professional boys are checking the airsoft weapons and equipment provided by the league. Edward, Rivers, Davis, Johanton, Miho, Maho, Darjeeling, Kay, and Katyusha walk by, seeing their friends inspecting the equipment they've been given.

Nearby, Uncle Sam High School's boys are reviewing their old tanks. Austin and Mark are going over the list of their Tiger I tanks, ensuring everything is accounted for. To their left, Nikoli and Chubbs are inspecting their Panzer 38(t)s, while Peter, the tank's loader, checks the list of rounds they will receive.

"Well, everything looks the same as when we last used the Hellcat," William remarks as he examines the list.

"Yeah, same for our Panzer here," Mark agrees.

"Everything we used to have is still here. I'm sure the association made sure everything we installed is still in place," Hans says, wearing his Vice Commander uniform for Uncle Sam High.

"I can't believe we're fighting again on this island. I thought we were going home," Chubbs sighs.

"Well, we couldn't leave after those Rangers bastards laid a finger on my girl. They had this match coming," Austin says.

"Yeah, but no matter what, we should treat them with respect. Even if we capture them, we have to treat them fairly. I'm pretty sure they know how to treat prisoners fairly," Hans replies.

"Of course, except for that batshit insane Aikari..." Austin mutters, arms crossed, remembering the last Association vs. Federation match.

"Speaking of which, Hans, when do you think this match will start?" Peter asks.

"In a bit. Right now, one of the officials is going over the rules with them. I just hope we can handle the Big Three the league sent us," Chubbs says.

"The Big Three? What's that?" a new voice asks.

Turning around, Saori, Yukari, Hana, and a sleepy Mako are seen approaching, with Saori carrying Mako on her back.

"Oh, right! I forgot to tell you girls about the Big Three from the league," William says.

"What's so special about them?" Hana asks.

"Well, three years ago, after the so-called Dallas Incident match, three schools' Vice Commanders emerged as heroes, saving the lives of five hundred boys against the S-Rank school of Vermont Tankery Academy.

Those Big Three were Albert Muller, North High's Vice Commander; Jaylon Graham, Grand Lake High's Vice Commander; and finally, Don Houston, who supposedly led Davy Crockett as its Vice Commander... But Houston's backstory is a bit too complicated, and I'd rather not get into it," Mark says, clearing his throat before continuing.

"Anyway, ever since that incident, those three were named the 'Three Heroes of Dallas,' but it's a long story, and I don't want to go into it," Mark finishes.

Meanwhile, on the League's side:

Houston and the other major commanders finish their meeting and exit Houston's tent. A convoy consisting of Humvees, flanked by Rangers, Marines, and Wehrmacht infantry, patrols the area. Muller glances at his watch and speaks up to the others.

"We're late..." he says, a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Well, let's just hope we don't keep those folks waiting any longer," Graham says casually as he pops a fresh piece of gum into his mouth.

As each of the commanders climb into their designated Humvee, Sergeant Dean, leading the Ranger's security team, motions that the Humvees are clear to move, and the convoy begins to roll out.

In the lead Humvee, Houston flips through the pages of a dossier listing each of the Sensha-Do Federation and Association commanders. Sighing, he places the files aside and leans back, enjoying the ride as they head toward the meeting spot.

At the outskirts of Hoja City:

The joint high school commanders stand outside the city, waiting for their opponents. Miho is visibly nervous about facing the best of the League schools. Johnanton, noticing her anxiety, gently takes her hands in his. The two share a comforting smile, which helps calm Miho down. They continue holding hands, exchanging reassuring glances, until Edward speaks up.

"Here they come..." Edward says.

"You think we have a chance against them?" Davis asks, his tone uncertain.

"I think we do," Rivers responds confidently.

The convoy of Humvees comes to a halt. The first person to step out is Wesley, wearing his Washington Boys' and Girls' custom Falklands-era British commander uniform, with a red beret perched on his head. He moves aside as the second commander, Elijah, steps out, his face adorned with Indian war paint, giving him a fierce appearance.

As the two major commanders of the League move aside, the third figure emerges. Graham of Grand Lake High steps out with a suave, Hollywood-like presence. Wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses, he casually smooths back his hair, flashing a charismatic smile. In a quick move, he pulls out his phone and snaps a selfie, maintaining his cool, effortless charm, looking every bit like a star in the spotlight.

Next, Muller of North High School exits the Humvee, adjusting his pristine Wehrmacht officer's uniform. He carefully smooths out any wrinkles, making sure everything is perfectly in place. His serious, no-nonsense demeanor radiates authority as he straightens his cap, his icy gaze surveying the scene with the precision of a seasoned tactician.

Finally, the last Humvee door opens, and smoke billows out. Houston steps out, exuding raw, unshakable confidence. Dressed in the Marshal Commander uniform of Davy Crockett High School, he takes a slow, deliberate puff from his cigar. The smoke curls around him as he gazes ahead with a steely resolve. After a moment, he flicks the cigar to the ground and grinds it beneath his boot, the quiet crunch resonating like a thunderous declaration of power. His aura is commanding—part legend, part myth—as he joins the other commanders, ready for whatever comes next.

As both sides finally met, the air was thick with tension. The two high school groups stood in silence until Muller broke it.

"So, you're the ones who attacked our boys?" Muller asked, his German accent unmistakable.

"Actually, it was more like your boys attacked us, you Nazi asshole," Rivers shot back.

"Heh, he got you there, Muller," Graham added with a smirk, glancing at his German friend. Muller rolled his eyes in response, clearly unamused.

Kay, her hands casually stuffed into her tankery jacket pockets, chimed in. "Wow, I didn't expect the Grand Lake High Commander to act like this."

Graham chuckled, lowering his sunglasses slightly to reveal his eyes. "Of course, you are. You're talking to the international star Jaylon Graham, best-time actor and stuntman—and, yes, I do all my own stunts."

"Ugh, of course..." Davis muttered, clearly unimpressed with Graham's bravado.

Graham, quick to pick up on Davis' attitude, smiled tauntingly. "Well, well, I'm sorry. I didn't know the heir of the Brown family was here. Last I heard, you've got daddy issues... and I thought mine were bad."

Davis clenched his fists, but said nothing.

Graham wasn't done. He turned his attention to Rivers next, the smirk never leaving his face. "And you, Rivers, still stuck in Montana, huh? Man, must be tough. I hear there's more cows than people there. Maybe you should stick to wrangling cattle instead of trying to fight us."

Rivers narrowed his eyes but stayed quiet.

Graham then shifted his gaze to Johnanton. "And look who we have here—Johnanton. Must be nice always being in Miho's shadow, huh? Or do you prefer hiding behind her? You're a real tough guy... when someone else is doing all the work."

Johnanton stood still, refusing to rise to the bait, though his jaw tightened slightly.

But Graham wasn't satisfied yet. He turned his attention to the girls. "And the rest of you... well, let's just say I'm not too thrilled about sharing camera time with you ladies. I've got a reputation to uphold, and I don't need you ruining my shot."

He grinned smugly and pulled out his phone once more, striking another pose and snapping a selfie. "Yeah, that's more like it—just me, looking good as always."

The girls exchanged glances, unimpressed with Graham's antics, while he continued to bask in his own self-assured charm, clearly enjoying the attention, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. 

As Graham turned his attention to Maho and Edward, a mischievous grin spread across his face. He knew exactly how to stir the pot.

"Well, well, look at this! The power couple, huh?" Graham mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maho Nishizumi and Edward Hill, the Sensha-Do Federation's golden pair. You two look more like a soap opera than a command team. What's next? Holding hands in the middle of the battlefield? Maybe you should try focusing on your tanks instead of each other."

Edward's expression darkened, his fists clenching tightly. "Say that again, and I'll—"

Before Edward could finish, he lunged forward, ready to throw a punch at Graham. But just as his fist was about to connect, a strong hand caught his wrist in mid-air. It was Houston.

The two Marshal Commanders—Houston of the League and Edward of the Association—stood locked in a tense stare-down. The air between them seemed to crackle with intensity as their eyes locked, neither one willing to back down.

Houston's grip was firm but calm, his gaze steady. "Not here," Houston said in a low, commanding tone. "This isn't the time."

Edward's chest heaved with restrained anger, but he knew better than to escalate further. Houston's presence was like a wall, unyielding and unmoved by Edward's fury.

Graham, standing just behind Houston, smirked and casually leaned back, clearly enjoying the chaos he'd stirred. "Oh, come on, Houston. Let him take a swing—I'd love to see how that turns out for him," Graham teased, his voice oozing arrogance.

The tension between both sides grew as the exchange of insults continued. While Houston stood quietly, arms crossed, observing the situation with a stern expression, the others were quick to lash out.

Davis was the first to take aim at Wesley, sneering as he addressed the youngest of the League commanders. "What's the matter, Wesley? Did they send you because you're still in school, or are you just here to babysit the big boys?"

Wesley, despite being younger, maintained his composure. Adjusting his red beret, he looked Davis straight in the eye, his British accent crisp and unwavering. "I may be young, but it takes more than age to command, Davis. Try not to confuse experience with bluster. I've dealt with worse than you—likely with less effort too."

Davis scoffed, rolling his eyes, but Wesley's calm demeanor only added to the frustration.

Not to be outdone, Johnathon turned his attention to Elijah, grinning as he eyed the war paint on the Kansas Chief commander's face. "Nice paint, Elijah. What is that, some tribal thing? Going to do a rain dance before the match?"

Elijah's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing in a dangerous glare. "Careful, Johnathon. You mock my traditions, but they're older than anything you or your fancy tank ever stood for. I'd love to see you say that in my hometown—might just find out how fast you can run."

"Run?" Johnathon laughed mockingly. "From what? A buffalo? Come on, Elijah, this isn't the wild west. You're not scaring anyone with your feathers and war chants."

Elijah's face darkened as he took a step forward, his hand clenching into a fist. "Watch your mouth, or you'll find out why the ancestors named us warriors. It won't be a pretty lesson."

The exchange of heated words between them continued, drawing the attention of everyone around, but Houston remained still, his silence adding weight to the air. His arms crossed over his chest, he watched the chaos unfold, his cold, calculating gaze sweeping over both his allies and the opposing commanders.

Meanwhile, Graham couldn't resist adding fuel to the fire, glancing sideways at Maho and Edward once again. "Hey, Edward, how about you try some of that 'warrior spirit' on me? I bet Maho would just love to see her knight in shining armor come to the rescue, huh? Or maybe you'd rather hold her purse while the real men fight?"

Edward clenched his fists again, but Houston's presence kept him from lashing out. Instead, he shot a venomous glare at Graham, his teeth grinding as he fought to hold back the rage building inside him.

Wesley, standing tall despite his smaller frame, addressed the tension with a sigh. "Graham, leave it be. We're here for the match, not to indulge in childish antics. Save the theatrics for after we've won."

Graham merely smirked, running a hand through his hair. "Whatever you say, Wes. But I can't help it if these clowns make it too easy."

Katyusha crossed her arms, her small frame exuding confidence. "These clowns will kick your Yankee asses out of here."

Muller, unimpressed, smirked, his German accent sharp as he retorted, "Or what, shorty? You going to have your momma carry you around like last time?"

Katyusha's face flushed red with anger, but before she could respond, Rivers cut in, shouting across the field. "You want to put your money where your mouth is, Hollywood asshole?"

Graham raised an eyebrow and casually adjusted his sunglasses, his expression cocky. "Try it, Rivers. I'd love to see you try."

The tension was about to explode when suddenly a sharp clearing of a throat broke through the escalating noise. Houston, having remained silent until now, finally spoke up, his voice low and commanding. "Enough."

All eyes turned to him, the weight of his authority silencing the heated arguments. His presence alone commanded the respect of both sides.

"We all know why we're here," Houston continued, his eyes scanning the commanders from both the League and the Federation. "We'll settle this on the battlefield. So let's stop the bickering and prepare ourselves for this war."

There was a heavy silence before Edward nodded, stepping forward from his side. "Agreed," he said firmly.

The American boys saluted each other, a mutual acknowledgment of the battle ahead. Meanwhile, the Japanese girls stood at attention, placing their feet together and bowing respectfully. The tension diffused for the moment, but as the teams began to part ways, Houston and Edward lingered, staring each other down.

Houston's eyes narrowed. "You really think you have a chance against us?" His voice was calm, but his gaze was like steel.

Edward didn't flinch. "You bet your ass I do, Houston."

The two commanders locked eyes, the intensity between them palpable, neither one willing to back down.

Meanwhile at Davy Crockett High Camp

Meanwhile, in the dim confines of a dark tent, the Airborne boys were watching a movie they'd made, depicting a dramatic battle scene. The screen showed Rangers and Airborne soldiers standing in a tight defensive circle in the middle of a stormy desert, facing an onslaught of giant, monstrous bugs.

"Come on, bugs! Is that all you got?" one of the Airborne boys shouted on-screen, his rifle blazing as he shot down wave after wave of the creatures.

"Make your shots count!" yelled a Ranger, tossing a magazine to his buddy beside him, who caught it and swiftly reloaded before firing again.

In the film, the desert winds howled, carrying the scent of gunpowder and the screeching calls of the enemy. Houston stood in the center of the defensive circle, his pistol raised, barking orders to his team.

"Hold your line!" he shouted, firing off a round at the incoming bugs as they swarmed toward the small unit of Rangers and Airborne troops.

"Sir! We have no go for pickup!" the radio operator yelled over the chaos, his voice strained with panic.

Houston cursed under his breath, quickly formulating a plan. His younger brother, Red, wearing his bug-stained Airborne uniform, pushed through the gunfire toward Houston, urgency in his voice. "Brother! We need to move! We can't hold this position any longer!"

Houston barely glanced at him, still focused on the advancing enemy. "We're not leaving until we're sure it's clear!" he barked back, taking another shot.

Red ducked as a bug screeched by, its massive mandibles snapping dangerously close. "There's an abandoned outpost half a click away! We can take it, but we need to move now, or we're dead!" His voice was desperate, but his logic was sound.

Houston finally turned to Red, his face grim. "It's risky as hell, but it's our only option." He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the faces of his men—his comrades. Then, with resolve, he added, "We're making a run for it."

"I'll stay behind," Houston decided, his voice quiet but firm. "Vice Commander Jefferson, Sergeant Dean, and some of the Rangers will hold this line. You take the Airborne, Red, and punch through their formation. Take that outpost, and we'll cover your retreat."

Red's eyes widened, defiance brewing in his voice. "I'm not leaving you here to die, Don!"

Houston turned, his voice hardening as he pointed at his younger brother. "That's an order, Red! You get your team out, now!"

For a long moment, Red hesitated, his face torn between loyalty and fear. Finally, with a reluctant nod, he gripped his rifle tighter and turned to Shadow and the rest of his Airborne team. "We're breaking through! Let's move!"

In the film, the camera followed Red and Shadow as they led the Airborne soldiers in a desperate dash through the bugs' formation. They fired in rapid succession, cutting down the creatures as they sprinted toward the outpost. Shadows of massive bugs loomed in the distance, but the team pressed on, determined to reach their objective.

Red, though focused on the mission, couldn't help but glance back over his shoulder. What he saw sent a shiver down his spine. The Rangers, including Houston, Jefferson, and Dean, were making their last stand, heavily outnumbered but still fighting like hell. Houston, pistol in one hand and an assault rifle in the other, stood tall at the front, firing at the oncoming swarm.

Jefferson shouted over the roar of battle, "Don't let up! Keep firing!" His voice was steady, despite the overwhelming odds.

Dean, gritting his teeth, fired shot after shot, rallying the remaining Rangers. "We ain't going down without a fight!"

One of the Rangers, hoisting the flag of Davy Crockett High School high in the air, shouted, "For the school! For Davy Crockett!" The flag fluttered in the desert wind, a symbol of their unbreakable resolve.

Red's heart sank as he watched the battle unfold from a distance, torn between wanting to run back to his brother and knowing he had to follow orders. Shadow, noticing his hesitation, grabbed his shoulder. "We have to keep moving, Red. If we don't take that outpost, their sacrifice will be for nothing."

With gritted teeth, Red nodded, leading his team toward the outpost as gunfire and the cries of battle echoed behind him.

As the film continued, the tension in the dark tent was palpable, even though everyone watching knew the outcome. Red leaned back in his chair, casually munching on a small bag of popcorn, thoroughly enjoying himself. He watched the scenes of battle, the fire and chaos playing out on the screen, as if it were just another day in the life.

Leaning over, he nudged Shadow with the bag, offering her some. "Want a bite, Shadow?"

Shadow, still wearing her mask, folded her arms and responded in her thick French accent, her tone indifferent. "Non, merci. I do not eat... junk food."

Red raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Come on, it's not junk food if it's from a movie about us. That makes it... special."

She glanced at him sideways, rolling her eyes behind the mask. "You will not convince me with that reasoning, Red."

Undeterred, Red waved the bag again. "You sure? You looked like you could use some butter and carbs to go with all that attitude."

Shadow's lips twitched in the slightest hint of a smile before she exhaled, resigned. "Fine." She grabbed a handful, much to the amusement of the other Airborne troops sitting nearby.

Red grinned, teasing her as she reached into the bag. "See? Even the French can't resist good old-fashioned popcorn."

One of the other Airborne soldiers, a wiry young man named Samuels, leaned over with a grin. "It's got that tactical crunch, right? Perfect for movie night."

Another, Rodriguez, who had his feet up on the seat in front of him, laughed. "I still can't believe we made a movie about that bug fight. I remember being more scared than badass back then."

"Scared?" Samuels teased. "You screamed louder than any of the bugs!"

Rodriguez shrugged, unbothered. "And yet here we are, in the movie. Guess I'm a Hollywood star now."

The group chuckled, enjoying the banter while the action unfolded on the screen. Red casually offered Shadow more popcorn, raising his eyebrows. "Admit it, it's not so bad."

Shadow munched on a few pieces before giving him a side glance. "It is tolerable... for junk food."

"Ha! I'll take that as a win," Red chuckled.

Samuels leaned forward in his seat, his eyes glued to the screen as the intense battle raged on. "This is still my favorite part! The way you guys held the line... legendary."

Rodriguez nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that flag moment? Damn, man, gave me chills."

Red leaned back, arms folded, clearly enjoying all the praise. "Well, we had to make sure the bugs knew who they were messing with."

Samuels threw a playful punch at Red's shoulder. "Stop acting all cool about it. We know you were sweating bullets just like the rest of us."

Shadow tilted her head, her French accent cutting through the light-hearted conversation. "If I recall, you were the one who kept counting down how many bullets you had left. What was it you said? Ah, yes—'I'm on my last mag, mon dieu, we're dead!'"

The group erupted in laughter, even Red couldn't help but chuckle. "Hey, I'm still here, right? Must've done something right."

Rodriguez added, still grinning, "And we got a movie out of it. I say that's a win."

Shadow took another handful of popcorn, finally conceding. "Oui, perhaps it is a small victory. But next time, Red, do not offer me junk food. Offer me... real food."

Red winked at her. "Deal. Next bug film, I'll bring the cheese and wine."

The group laughed, settling back into their seats as the movie continued.

"Commander on deck!" shouted one of the Ranger who entered the dark tent. 

Hearing that Red quickly turned off the projector putting the popcorn away as Red and Shadow stood attention while the other airborne does the same as Houston entered the tent. Already knowing what his little brother was doing Houston then proceed to walk silencing back and forth. Making the other airborne boy's scared thinking they will be yelled out or get after for slacking off by watching the film by the Captain order. 

Houston stopped pacing, standing in the center of the room, arms crossed as his piercing gaze swept over the room. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and every Airborne trooper stood stiffly, trying not to meet his eyes. Red, always quick to jump in, spoke before Houston could unleash what he assumed was going to be a tirade.

"Brother, wait!" Red blurted, his voice filled with urgency. "I know what you're about to say, and I'll say it for you... We're sorry. We were watching the film instead of prepping for the tankery match. I thought my boys deserved a little break. So if you're going to punish anyone... punish me, big brother." Red's eyes were shut tight, bracing for the worst as he stood there, a mix of nerves and regret washing over him.

For a long moment, there was silence.

Houston looked at Red with a blank expression, then slowly turned to glance at the projector, the empty popcorn bag, and the uneasy faces of the Airborne troopers. His jaw tightened as he uncrossed his arms and took a slow step toward Red, who still had his head down.

Then, Houston sighed.

"You know what really disappoints me?" Houston finally spoke, his voice calm but with a hint of something heavier underneath. The Airborne soldiers tensed, anticipating a verbal hammer to fall.

Red opened his eyes, but kept his head bowed. "Yes, sir?" he asked, his voice small.

Houston took a long, dramatic pause, before dropping the bombshell with a perfectly straight face: "The fact that none of you idiots invited me to watch the film with you."

The whole tent went silent. Red blinked in confusion, his brain taking a second to process what his brother just said. The other Airborne troopers exchanged uncertain glances, not quite believing their ears.

Red's mouth opened and closed a few times. "W-What?" he stammered. "You mean... you're not mad?"

Houston raised an eyebrow, shaking his head slightly in mock disappointment. "Mad? No, Red. I would be mad... if the film sucked. But from what little I caught when I walked in, it looks like you boys were enjoying yourselves. And I can't have my baby brother hogging all the fun without me."

Red's eyes widened, finally realizing he'd been played. "Wait... you mean you wanted to watch with us?"

Houston smirked, leaning in just slightly, his voice dropping to a lower tone. "You thought you could watch my greatest hits and not let me join in on the glory? That's a rookie mistake, little brother."

The rest of the Airborne soldiers exhaled, visibly relaxing as the tension dissolved into relieved chuckles. Even Shadow, still standing stiffly beside Red, couldn't help but let out a small, amused huff behind her mask.

"Sir, we... we didn't think you'd want to watch..." Samuels piped up from the back, scratching his head.

Houston gave him a sideways glance. "You're in my unit, Samuels. I always want to watch us kick some ass. Especially against bugs that we filmed."

Rodriguez, unable to contain himself, burst out laughing. "Well damn, Boss, next time we'll save you a seat!"

Houston chuckled, finally easing up completely, the hard-edged commander persona replaced with the more relaxed, older-brother side. "See that you do. I hate missing out on good war flicks, especially when I'm in them."

Red, still slightly in shock but grinning now, rubbed the back of his neck. "You really had me going there, brother. Thought you were about to throw me into the brig."

Houston clapped a hand on Red's shoulder. "Next time, don't assume. You know I'd never punish anyone for watching me look awesome on screen."

Red rolled his eyes, relieved and now back to his usual self. "Yeah, yeah, keep it up, Hollywood."

The rest of the squad, now feeling the shift in the mood, relaxed entirely, some even laughing softly.

Houston gestured at the projector. "Alright, boys, let's finish this movie. We've got a battle coming up, but there's always time for one last rewatch. You never know when we might need some last-minute inspiration."

Red couldn't help but laugh at that, genuinely glad his brother had cut him some slack. "You know what, big brother? You're not so bad after all."

With the tension completely broken, the projector was switched back on, the tent filling once more with the sounds of gunfire, bugs, and heroic shouts from the screen. Houston grabbed a seat next to Red, kicking his feet up on a crate as they settled back into the film, ready to enjoy their handiwork one last time before the real battle began.

Meanwhile, back at Hoja City, after the meet and greet since tomorrow will be when the match starts, it shows Edward and the others in the room drawing up battle plans.

"Okay, so... since we know we're dealing with their full forces of the League, we're going to have to take each one of them on. Darjeeling and Davis, I want you guys to deal with Wesley and his forces, which I know consist of a mix of Scots, Canadians, English, and Australians. Next, River and Kay, you guys will be facing Elijah and his boys. Now, Johnathon, Miho, and Katyusha, we'll be facing the big three," Edward said.

"What, are you crazy, Ed?!" Johnathon exclaimed.

"No, I'm not! I have a plan. Grand Lake, North, and Davy Crockett, we will have to split their forces in half. Sure, they've got the best people in their second command, but we have to break it," Edward replied.

"So, me and Johnathon will be facing Graham then?" Miho asked.

"Exactly! While Katyusha, I hope you can hold off Muller and his so-called 'Panzer Division,'" Edward mocked.

"Of course we can handle them! Nothing will go wrong against my strong and genius attack to push those German-Americans out," Katyusha said confidently.

"And then what about us, Edward?" Maho asked.

"Well, we will be fighting the biggest beast... Don Houston, or should I say his codename... 'Big Boss,'" Edward said.