The Eastern Front Part 1

The rotten cancer of Commander Johnathon and Miho spreads through Tomodachi like a plague. Their relentless drive into our land steals our boys away whenever we try to fight them off. The arrogance of their leaders is matched only by the brutality of their classmates from their own schools.

These are the darkest days of the Association and Federation occupation of 'Stalingrad,' or so it has been called by many. These were the recorded words of Vice Commander Joey of Grand Lake High as he and his Soviet Division, along with other low-ranking commanders of League schools, were sent to the Eastern Front. Hopefully, they can cause trouble there, far from the chaos in the West.

Meanwhile, at the so-called Stalingrad...

The Grand Lake High boys huddled in cover, scattered among the rubble of destroyed buildings. Each was armed with airsoft bolt-action rifles, and one boy clutched the ammunition. Joey crouched among them, eyeing the battlefield through the dust and smoke. A flag bearer, holding the flag of Grand Lake High, stood close by, waiting for Joey's command.

Joey, determined and tense, scanned the positions of his comrades. Once he was certain, he blew the whistle.

"Charge!" Joey shouted, his voice rising above the noise.

The Soviet-American boys surged forward. They charged, rifles in hand, yelling battle cries, but one by one, they were struck down. Airsoft pellets rained upon them from the well-fortified positions of Edison High's infantry boys and the professional Association teams. Each hit boy fell to the ground, acting out their 'deaths' as they were taught, their bodies littering the battlefield.

"Keep moving!" Joey urged, pushing his way forward through the debris.

The air was thick with the sound of rifles cracking, boys yelling, and the thud of bodies hitting the ground. As more of the Grand Lake boys fell under the relentless fire, one boy, panic-stricken, shouted over the chaos.

"Fall back! We're not going to make it!" he cried out, his voice breaking with fear.

"Retreat!" another boy echoed, scrambling backward.

The retreat was spreading like wildfire as boys turned to flee back to their lines. But Joey wasn't having it. Eyes blazing with fury, he spun around and shouted after them, his voice a roar above the din of battle.

"Not a step back!" Joey screamed, raising his rifle and firing a warning shot over their heads. "By the order of 227! Charge forward, or we will shoot!"

The command struck fear into those retreating. They hesitated, looking back at Joey and the few officers still standing at his side. His eyes were wild, and his grip on the rifle tight. Another officer joined him, firing shots into the air to stop the retreat.

"Get back in the fight!" the officer shouted, aiming at the backs of the retreating boys. "You run, and you die here! Move forward or face the bullet!"

The chaos was palpable. Boys who had turned to flee froze in terror, looking between the advancing enemy and the threat from their own officers. The battlefield was a hellscape of smoke, broken bodies, and scattered weapons. Joey motioned to the few boys still charging forward, trying to rally them.

"For Grand Lake! For your brothers!" he screamed, his voice hoarse but commanding.

Some boys hesitated, then turned back toward the fight, driven by fear and desperation. They charged forward once more, but the toll was heavy. Every step forward cost them lives. Joey, his heart pounding in his chest, moved ahead with his flag bearer still at his side. He knew they were outgunned and outmatched, but there was no turning back now.

As the Russian-American boys pressed on, desperately advancing under Joey's orders, the crack of airsoft rifles filled the air, mingling with the occasional sound of detonating powder mortars from the opposing forces. The Edison High infantry and the professional Association team had dug in, fortifying their positions with precision, and now they were unleashing everything they had.

Suddenly, a loud whistling sound cut through the noise of battle, and Joey instinctively ducked as he recognized the incoming mortar fire.

"Incoming!" one of the boys shouted in panic.

The first mortar exploded just ahead of the advancing Soviet line, sending plumes of smoke and a shower of dirt into the air. The boys, trained to respond to such situations, began dropping to the ground, pretending to be killed by the blast. Some were hit directly by the powder charges, their bodies jerking before collapsing in simulated death. The mortar fire continued, one explosion after another ripping through the charging boys.

Joey, in the thick of it all, kept pushing forward despite the chaos. He glanced behind him briefly—many of his comrades now lay still, their 'bodies' strewn across the battlefield as if dead. He clenched his jaw and tried to press onward, but just as he was about to break into another sprint, a mortar landed nearby with a deafening BOOM.

The force of the blast hit Joey like a freight train, sending him flying backward through the air. He felt his body collide with something hard—a crumbling, airsoft-riddled water fountain—before he blacked out. Dust and debris swirled around him, and his world went dark.

A few minutes later...

"Wow... I didn't expect that Grand Lake High's Vice Commander would sacrifice so many of his boys," Saori remarked, her voice carrying a mix of surprise and discomfort.

The scene shifted to the Anglerfish team—Saori, Yukari, Hana, and Mako—standing on the edge of the battlefield, looking down at the Russian-American boys from Grand Lake High who were pretending to be dead. Nearby, Edison High's infantry, efficient and methodical, were checking the bodies for any survivors. Whenever they found someone still breathing, they marked them with a shot, the sound of airsoft rifles echoing across the area.

"Well, since they're following Soviet tactics, it's not that surprising. The Russians were known for their brutal strategies back then," Yukari said as she crouched beside one of the 'dead' boys, inspecting the scene with a fascinated but serious expression.

Saori crossed her arms, shaking her head. "I mean, they did start this match, so I kind of think they deserve this."

"Yeah, I guess," Mako mumbled, clearly struggling to stay awake. She rubbed her eyes as another volley of airsoft shots rang out in the distance.

"My, my... Mako, you're actually trying to stay awake," Hana teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Mako yawned, barely managing to keep her eyes open. "It's too early for me to be up at seven in the morning," she muttered.

The sound of boots crunching against debris grew louder as more Edison High boys moved in, their rifles at the ready. They checked each Grand Lake boy, one by one. The tension was palpable as airsoft shots echoed through the ruins, followed by the sharp clicks of reloads. Each shot marked another 'elimination' as they efficiently worked through the battlefield.

Suddenly, one of Joey's injured boys, who had been lying on the ground clutching his side, began to stir. His uniform was dusty and torn, and he was covered in simulated blood, the effects of an earlier powder mortar blast. He raised his hands weakly, speaking in broken Russian, his voice trembling with fear.

"Я сдаюсь... не стреляйте... пожалуйста..."  he pleaded, his hands shaking as he surrendered to the approaching Edison High team.

One of the Edison High boys glanced at him, rifle raised. For a brief moment, it seemed like they might take him as a 'prisoner.' But then, without hesitation, the Edison boy pulled the trigger, and the airsoft round hit the Grand Lake boy squarely in the chest, marking him.

The boy winced, dropping back to the ground. His hand clutched the spot where the pellet struck, but he didn't protest—he knew the rules of the game. He was marked, and for all intents and purposes, 'dead.'

"Looks like We're not taking any prisoners," Yukari remarked, her eyes narrowing as she observed the efficiency of Edison High's tactics.

"Well, it's not surprising. We want to make sure there's no resistance left," Saori replied, shaking her head as another shot echoed nearby.

The sound of rumbling engines and the heavy tread of Edison High's tanks reverberated through the air, mixing with the steady, relentless echo of airsoft shots. The battlefield was littered with the 'bodies' of fallen boys from Grand Lake High's Soviet Division, their uniforms dusty and marked with the signs of defeat.

At the ruined fountain, half-buried beneath a pile of debris and fallen comrades, a young Soviet private lay motionless, his breath shallow as he tried to stay hidden. He had tucked himself among the bodies, hoping the Edison High infantry would overlook him as they cleared the area. His heart raced, pounding in his ears as he listened to the steady rhythm of approaching boots and gunfire.

From his vantage point, he could see the remains of Joey's division scattered all around. One of his comrades, injured but trying to crawl away, was spotted by an Edison infantry boy. Without hesitation, the Edison boy raised his rifle and fired, marking the Grand Lake soldier with a clean shot. The wounded boy slumped, still, as his elimination was confirmed.

The private froze, his muscles tense as he watched the Edison infantryman walk past, checking the other bodies. Slowly, as the footsteps grew more distant, the private dared to move. He cautiously crawled out of his hiding place, careful not to disturb the 'dead' around him. His mind was reeling as he took in the scene—it was a massacre. Everyone in Joey's division was down.

For a brief, terrifying moment, the private thought he might be the only one left, the sole survivor of this devastating charge. But then, as he edged closer to the destroyed water fountain, he caught sight of movement. His eyes widened in shock—there, amid the rubble, lay Vice Commander Joey. He hadn't been hit, just knocked out by the earlier mortar blast.

Joey stirred, his body shifting slightly as he regained consciousness. His eyelids fluttered, and after a moment, his gaze locked onto the private's. There was a brief flash of confusion in Joey's eyes as he took in their desperate situation—the battlefield, the fallen comrades, and the looming presence of Edison High's forces.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Joey raised a shaky hand to his lips and pressed his index finger against them.

"Shhh," he mouthed silently, his eyes wide with urgency.

With a quiet, deliberate motion, Joey reached over and grabbed one of his fallen comrade's airsoft rifles, his hand trembling slightly from the effort. The two of them, Joey and the private, crawled low to the ground, keeping their movements slow and measured, careful not to disturb the bodies around them. They wove through the debris, concealed by the fallen Grand Lake boys, until they found a perfect hiding spot behind the destroyed fountain, its crumbling structure offering just enough cover.

"I need your help, comrade," Joey whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the advancing Edison High forces. "Do what I say... and we can avenge this massacre."

The private nodded, his face pale but resolute. As they hunkered down behind the fountain, Joey winced in pain, clutching his left hand. It was clearly broken, the injury sustained during the earlier mortar blast. He grimaced, knowing he could no longer aim the rifle himself.

"My injured hand..." Joey murmured, looking at the private with determined eyes. "I can't aim anymore. You'll have to do it for me." He handed the airsoft rifle to the private, who took it without hesitation, gripping it tightly.

Joey glanced through the cracked stone of the fountain, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the battlefield. "The mudak responsible for this is Commander Johnathon of Edison High School. And the person right next to him... that's Commander Miho Nishizumi of Ooarai Girls' Academy," he continued, his voice laced with bitter hatred. "They're the ones responsible for this devastating loss, for pushing our boys back and slaughtering us like this."

The private listened intently, his grip tightening on the rifle as Joey's words sank in.

"For some time, I've hunted them," Joey went on, his voice calm but cold. "Luck alone has saved their wretched lives so far. But sniping your enemy... it's like hunting any other animal. If you fire at the wrong moment, your chance will be gone forever. Patience is key. If we reveal our position too soon, this fountain will become our grave... and the death of our entire company."

As the tank engines roared, Joey kept his eyes locked on the young private beside him. "Now load your rifle, but hold your fire," Joey whispered. "Wait until the tanks' engines drown out your shots."

The private nodded, his hands moving with precision as he loaded fresh pellets into the airsoft rifle. His breath steady, he took aim through the rubble. The low rumble of the tank engine reverberated through the ruins, masking the sound of the private's shots. He squeezed the trigger, picking off the small patrols one by one, the pop of the pellets lost in the mechanical cacophony.

Joey watched in silent admiration as the last Edison High patrolman fell to the ground, marked by the private's precise shot. "Excellent aim!" Joey praised, a rare smile touching his face. "You are a natural hunter."

He slowly rose to his feet, cradling his airsoft pistol in his good hand. "Time to close in for the kill."

The two crept from their cover at the fountain, their movements quiet and deliberate. They slinked along the debris-laden streets, keeping to the shadows cast by the ruined buildings. Joey led them to a nearby wall, peeking around the corner. His heart sank as he saw an M3 Lee tank lumbering down the street, accompanied by a fresh group of Edison boys patrolling the area.

"Damn it..." Joey muttered, pulling back quickly. "Armored patrol. We'll never get through this way." His eyes darted around, searching for an alternate route. That's when he spotted it—an old bar, its windows shattered, the building in ruins. "There." He pointed, urgency in his voice. "Hurry before they discover their marked patrols."

The private followed Joey as they moved quickly and quietly to the destroyed bar. Inside, the air was thick with dust, the remnants of what had once been a lively hangout now reduced to rubble and broken glass. The interior of the bar struck Joey with a wave of painful nostalgia. The cracked floor and overturned tables reminded him of a place he hadn't thought about in years—Dallas. Before everything changed.

He paused, running a hand across the splintered remains of a barstool. The memories hit him hard, and for a moment, he was back in the days before the Dallas Incident, when he and his friends had spent their days together, laughing, planning, unaware of the tragedy that would tear them apart.

"For a time before I was a Vice Commander..." Joey's voice was low, tinged with sorrow. "I crept through the shadows like a rat... This place reminds me of when I was just an eighth grader. It echoes with conversations of friends and lovers... No longer for here that is."

The private listened, silent but attentive, sensing the weight of Joey's words. There was a darkness in his commander's tone, an anger buried deep within the pain.

Joey straightened, his eyes hardening once more. "Mark my words, comrade," he continued, his voice filled with cold resolve. "One day, things will change. We will take the fight to their land, to their people... to their blood."

The private nodded, gripping his rifle tighter, the gravity of Joey's promise sinking in. They moved through the bar, stepping over broken chairs and shattered glass, their footsteps careful and deliberate. Joey led the way, his mind focused on their mission, but his heart haunted by the memories of what he'd lost.

As they reached the back of the building, Joey crouched near a doorway, peeking through the broken window at the street ahead. The patrols had moved farther up, but they would need to move fast.

"We'll circle around from here," Joey said, formulating a plan in his mind. "If we're careful, we can flank them before they realize we're still alive."

Opening the door to the outside, Joey and the private carefully maneuvered through the debris, staying low and using every available bit of cover. They hugged the walls of the nearby building, their backs pressed against the cold stone, cautiously scanning their surroundings for any sign of movement. Just as they prepared to cross to another building, a sudden crack echoed through the air—a sniper's shot. The bullet whizzed past them, striking a metal sign above their heads with a sharp ping.

"Sniper! Get inside, now!" Joey barked, his instincts taking over as he dove through the shattered window of the adjacent building. The private followed suit, leaping through the window just as another shot rang out, narrowly missing them. They both hit the ground, rolling to avoid any further fire.

Meanwhile, at the sniper position...

"I swear, those were Soviet guys I spotted!" Piyotan exclaimed, her eyes squinting through the scope of her airsoft Kar98.

The Anteater team was positioned on the upper floor of a building across the river, their tank parked nearby as they tested out their airsoft rifles.

"Are you sure they were Grand Lake High guys?" Momoga asked, adjusting her own position, scanning the area.

"Well..." Piyotan hesitated, "it's hard to tell at this distance. They could be... but we don't want to accidentally hit one of our Edison High allies."

Nekota, already settled into her sniping position, nodded. "We'll have to make sure. I'll take the next shot." She aimed her Kar98 carefully, focusing on the building where she had last seen movement.

**Back at Joey and the private's position...**

"Svoloch..." Joey cursed under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. "That sniper almost got me. We'll have to flush them out before we can move on. Follow me!"

The two quickly climbed the stairs to the second floor, keeping low as they moved to avoid being spotted again. Joey peeked out from a broken window, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the distant buildings. He knew the shot had come from somewhere across the river.

"There!" Joey pointed. "The building with the banners. That's where the shot came from. Now, it's a game of cat and mouse. I'll draw their fire. You keep your eyes open for the flash."

With a deep breath, Joey readied himself, then sprinted to the next bit of cover. As expected, another shot rang out, but this time the sniper missed him by inches. Joey dove behind cover, safe for the moment.

"Did you see it?" Joey called out, his voice calm but urgent. "That sniper knows exactly where we are. I can't risk another move. It's up to you now... Stay out of the light. If they fire, move immediately."

The private nodded, his hands steady as he gripped the rifle Joey had given him. Carefully, he crouched near the edge of the window, watching for the telltale glint of the sniper scope. His heartbeat quickened as he scanned the building Joey had indicated.

Back at the Anteater team's sniper nest...

Nekota adjusted her aim again, reloading fresh pellets into her airsoft Kar98. She focused on the windows across the river, trying to anticipate where Joey or the private might move next. Her finger hovered over the trigger, waiting for the perfect moment to fire.

Just then, the private spotted the faint glimmer of sunlight reflecting off the sniper's scope. Without hesitation, he took aim and fired a single shot.

The pellet struck Nekota squarely in the forehead, the force of the impact jolting her head back. She blinked in surprise, feeling the unmistakable sting of being "marked."

"I've been hit!" Nekota shouted, falling back from her sniping position.

Momoga and Piyotan rushed to her side, eyes wide as they saw the mark on Nekota's headgear. "No way... That was a perfect shot!" Piyotan exclaimed, unable to believe what had just happened.

"That has to be one of the Grand Lake guys," Momoga added, astonished. "Whoever it was, they're good."

Back at Joey and the private's position...

Joey smirked from his cover, impressed by the private's quick reflexes and accuracy. "Nice shot, comrade. You've just silenced their best. Now, let's move. We have no time to waste."

With the sniper down, Joey and the private moved swiftly and cautiously through the building, heading for their next target.

Joey and the private quickly ducked behind the corner of a crumbling building, their breathing shallow as they watched a large patrol pass by, led by a formidable Tiger tank from the Leopon team. Edison High boys were scanning the area, inspecting the nearby buildings, searching for any signs of movement.

The two remained still, holding their breath, hoping the patrol would pass without noticing them. But one of the boys in the patrol suddenly froze, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a piece of cloth hanging from a broken window—a piece of Joey's uniform.

"They've found us! We have to move, now! Hit the floor!" Joey shouted, diving to the ground as the private followed suit. The air erupted with the sound of airsoft pellets hitting the walls and windows as the patrol outside opened fire on their position.

"They're surrounding the building! We must hurry!" Joey urged, crawling rapidly toward a staircase. The private followed, both of them narrowly avoiding the barrage of airsoft fire.

As they reached the upper floors of the building, they heard the deafening roar of the Tiger tank's main cannon. The shot hit the side of the building, causing a massive section of the wall to crumble. As they tried to run, debris rained down around them. A large plank of wood collapsed on the private, pinning him to the ground.

Joey turned around, eyes wide with concern. He sprinted back, despite the danger, and grabbed the plank, straining to lift it off the private. "Here, take my hand! I need you, my friend," Joey said, pulling the private to his feet.

The two continued their escape, moving as fast as they could. Reaching the edge of the building, they jumped out of a broken window, crashing hard onto the ground below. Dazed but determined, they struggled to get up, only to find themselves surrounded by a small group of Edison boys.

One of the Edison boys stepped forward, sneering as he kicked Joey's pistol away. "I don't think you can escape from this, you Russian-Yankee," he said, pointing his airsoft rifle directly at Joey's chest.

Before the boy could pull the trigger, the air was filled with the sharp sound of airsoft rifles firing. The Edison boys dropped one by one, marked by precise shots from a distance. Joey and the private looked up, blinking in surprise as a group of Grand Lake High boys emerged from the shadows, their rifles raised.

"Joey!" one of the Grand Lake boys called out, recognizing him.

Joey slowly got to his feet, dusting himself off. He glanced at the private, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 

The private, still catching his breath, stood tall beside Joey. "Vasily," he finally introduced himself, revealing his Russian name.

A Soviet sergeant from the group stepped forward, acknowledging Joey with a quick salute. "We were about to launch an assault on the communications post to the north," the sergeant explained. "Our orders are to cut off their ability to call for reinforcements. We'll provide covering fire from above, but we'll need your signal to strike."

Joey's eyes lit up with a sense of purpose. "Understood, Sergeant. We'll get in position. Wait for my signal, and we'll hit them hard." 

Joey and Vasily moved swiftly through the war-torn streets, keeping to the shadows. As they reached a nearby two-story building, Joey gestured for Vasily to follow him up the stairs. The structure groaned under their weight, but they managed to make it to the second floor without drawing any attention. From their vantage point, they could see one of Edison High's entrenched machine-gun positions firing suppressive airsoft rounds at Grand Lake's advancing forces.

Vasily crouched by the broken window, carefully adjusting the scope of his airsoft sniper rifle. He lined up his shot, steadying his breath. The distant hum of tank engines and faint echoes of gunfire filled the air, masking his presence.

Crack!

The shot was precise, taking out the machine gunner. The gunner's head snapped back, marked by the hit. The machine gun fell silent, giving Grand Lake High's ground forces the opening they needed to storm the communication post. Joey watched as his boys surged forward, overtaking the Edison High defenders and securing the area. The radio chatter of Edison High forces suddenly went quiet, signaling the fall of the post.

Back at the headquarters, Commander Johnathon and Miho Nishizumi of Ooarai Girls' Academy were monitoring the situation via radio. As the communication post fell, frantic messages came through from the remaining Edison High forces.

"Commander! They've taken the comms post! We can't—"

The message cut off abruptly, leaving static on the line.

Johnathon slammed his fist onto the table, his frustration evident. "Damn it! They're picking us apart, one by one. We need to regroup, or they'll overrun the entire city."

Miho, standing calmly next to him, furrowed her brow in concern. "Johnathon, we need to move carefully. If they've cut off communications, they might have already planned a larger assault. We can't let them surround us."

Johnathon nodded, tightening his grip on his rifle. "Let's go. We'll reassess the situation on the ground and come up with a counterattack."

Together, they walked outside, flanked by a small group of Edison boys and Ooarai girls who were supporting the operation. They moved through the dusty streets, unaware that Joey and Vasily had relocated to another building, watching them from the third floor of a bombed-out structure.

Joey, recognizing both commanders, whispered to Vasily, "There they are—Johnathon and Miho. This is our moment, comrade. You take the shot. Remember, patience is key."

Vasily nodded, setting up his sniper rifle once more. He took a deep breath, aligning the scope with Miho's head. His finger hovered over the trigger, the sound of his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He pulled the trigger.

Crack!

The pellet hit Miho squarely in the shoulder, marking her. She stumbled, a look of shock crossing her face as she realized she had been hit. Johnathon's eyes widened in horror as he rushed to her side.

"Miho!" he shouted, catching her before she collapsed.

Miho winced as she touched the spot where the airsoft pellet had marked her. Though it wasn't a real wound, the sensation was jarring, and the realization that she was out of the fight came crashing down on her. "Johnathon... I've been marked."

Back in the sniper nest, Joey watched with satisfaction as Miho was escorted away from the battlefield. He turned to Vasily, a cold grin forming on his face.

 "You are a true marksman, Vasily!" Joey exclaimed, a wide grin on his face as he observed the precision of his comrade's shot. However, their moment of triumph was abruptly shattered as the ground beneath them shook violently.

Boom!

A tank shell exploded nearby, sending both Joey and Vasily crashing to the floor. Dust and debris filled the air, and the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder engulfed them. Regaining their footing, they exchanged a quick glance.

"They will be coming for us! We must go!" Joey shouted, urgency in his voice as he led Vasily towards the stairwell.

As they descended, their hearts raced. Just as they reached the landing, a surge of Edison boys poured into the building, weapons raised and ready. Joey cursed under his breath but quickly formulated a plan.

"Cover me!" he ordered, reaching for his powder grenade. With a swift motion, he pulled the pin and hurled it towards the mass of enemies.

"DIE! You scum-sucking animals!!! RRAAAAAAGH!!!" Joey roared, firing his pistol wildly as he tossed the grenade. The explosive detonated with a deafening roar, a cloud of colorful powder enveloping the room and marking several of the unsuspecting boys.

The chaos was instantaneous. Screams of surprise and confusion erupted as the powder cloud billowed, blinding many of the Edison boys. Joey took advantage of the chaos, picking off those who stumbled through the haze with precision shots, his adrenaline driving him forward.

"Upstairs! Now!" he barked, rushing toward the attic with Vasily close behind.

They scrambled up the staircase, the sound of shouting and gunfire echoing behind them. As they burst into the attic, they spotted a narrow window facing the river—a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

"There! That's our way out!" Vasily pointed, urgency etched into his features. The river flowed just beyond the window, its surface reflecting the fading light of day.

But they couldn't linger. The Edison boys were recovering fast, shouting orders and organizing a response. Joey glanced back, noting the approach of their enemies. There was no time to waste.

"On three, we jump!" Joey said, nodding to Vasily as he positioned himself near the window. "One... Two... Three!"

They leaped simultaneously, feeling the rush of air as they sailed through the window and hit the cold water below with a splash. The river enveloped them, its swift current pulling them downstream and away from the battle.

On the riverbank, chaos reigned. The Edison boys regrouped, scanning the area for any sign of Joey and Vasily.

"They can't have gone far!" shouted one of the boys, his eyes narrowed in determination.

Johnathon, now burdened by Miho's unexpected mark, was at the forefront of the group, fists clenched. "Spread out! Check every inch of this area! We cannot let them escape!"

As they combed through the debris of the city, Joey and Vasily surfaced downstream, gasping for air. They quickly ducked behind some foliage, hearts racing as they listened to the distant shouts of their pursuers.

"Did we lose them?" Vasily asked, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

"For now," Joey replied, scanning the surroundings. "But we need to keep moving. We can't stay here or we'll get caught. Let's find a way to regroup with the others."

They pushed off from the riverbank, slipping into the cover of the trees lining the water's edge

Meanwhile, in a different part of the East...

Hours before Joey's attack...

Several Davy Crockett High C-47s soared through the sky. Inside those planes, the Airborne unit sat, listening to reports about the ongoing situation on the west side of the island. Frustration grew as they heard their Ranger unit, along with Commander Houston, receiving all the glory for the action unfolding.

Tired of the constant updates, one of the airborne boys shouted to his friend, who was fiddling with the radio.

"Hey, can you turn that radio off? If I hear another report about the Ranger unit, I'm going to lose it!" the Corporal exclaimed.

"Hey, sour kraut, show your best scowl, Kowalski," replied a younger freshman airborne boy, who was part of the school yearbook club. He took photos and always wore a smile on his face.

"We're flying into a suicide mission, and you're taking pictures?!" Kowalski snapped, grabbing the boy's collar.

"Hey, take it easy, Kowalski..." another voice chimed in.

"So what if the Rangers have three special people like our 'Boss,' Jefferson, and Dean? We've got our special people, too," the photographer said.

"You mean the 'Boss's' younger brother? He's going to be marked just like the rest of us..." Kowalski retorted, eyeing the far side of the plane where Shadow, Thompson, and Red sat, their uniforms cloaked in shadows as they focused on their own business.