Commander Houston sat at his desk, engrossed in paperwork, when Jefferson barged into his office with a mischievous grin and a cardboard box that looked like it had been through a blender.

"Commander Houston, I need to show you something our guys and the Oarai girls cooked up," Jefferson announced, presenting the mangled cardboard creation.

Houston peered at the monstrosity. "What am I looking at, Jefferson? It looks like a tank that survived a tornado."

Jefferson, undeterred, explained, "It's a cardboard tank, sir. It's got enough room for two people, just like any other cardboard box you'd use for sneaking around. The guy in front drives, and the guy in the back is the gunner."

Houston raised an eyebrow. "Hold on, Jeff. Who the hell came up with this thing?"

Jefferson gulped nervously. "I'm sorry, Boss. They meant well, I swear. I know it's nowhere near as good as a real tank, but still—"

Before Jefferson could finish his sentence, Houston's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "IT'S BRILLIANT!"

Jefferson's jaw dropped as he witnessed his normally stoic commander's enthusiastic outburst. "The perfect synthesis of stealth and attack power, compact elegant design... the finest example of a weapon I've ever seen! Seriously, Jefferson, I need to meet the people who made this. I want to shake their hands."

Stuttering in disbelief, Jefferson managed to respond, "Y-You're serious?! Commander, look at its—"

"It's a masterpiece in every sense of the word. You don't agree?" Houston said, arms crossed and a mischievous smile on his face.

"N-no, I—" Jefferson struggled to comprehend the situation.

"I'm glad you like it, Commander Houston," Yukari chimed in, entering the room with a smile, witnessing Houston's shock and approval of the cardboard box tank.

"Thank you, Yukari, for making this. If you were in my unit, I would've given you a promotion right here and now," Houston said, still beaming.

"Well, I'm glad that you like how we made it for you, Commander," Yukari replied happily. "Plus, Commander Houston, with this cardboard box tank, it's a zero-emission vehicle, and it won't harm the forests or wildlife on Oshima."

"WHAT?" Jefferson finally exclaimed, unable to keep up with the bizarre turn of events.

"Nice work, Jefferson. I can see I made the right choice in making you my second-in-command," Houston said, giving Jefferson a thumbs-up.

"But I—Is there something wrong with me that I don't get?!" Jefferson stammered, thoroughly perplexed by the whole situation.

Meanwhile at the West side of the city Pottsboro

In the clear, untouched territory of Pottsboro, a small forest remained unclaimed by any of the competing teams. Not even the Federation Force had bothered to station patrols or send scouts into this secluded area. Just outside the forest, a group of Welsey men had set up a campsite, and two British Commandos were sitting by a campfire.

"You know, I still don't understand why Commander Welsey gave us the codenames Lemon and Tangerine," Tangerine mused while checking on the fire.

"Yeah, I've been wondering why I got stuck with 'Lemon,'" Lemon replied, shooting a bemused look at Tangerine. The two English-American Commandos huddled together by the fire, trying to stave off the chill.

"Maybe it's because you're sour, and nobody likes lemons," Tangerine teased.

Lemon raised an eyebrow. "That's bollocks, mate. There's lemonade, lemon drops, lemon meringue pie, lemon drizzle cake..." Lemon began listing all the delicious things associated with lemons, but Tangerine interrupted him.

"I'm sorry, are you still talking about lemons?" Tangerine quipped.

Before Lemon could respond, they heard something approaching from the open territory. They quickly grabbed their PIAT Launcher and roused their comrades, who armed themselves with Stern and Bren Light Airsoft Machine guns. They moved swiftly into defensive positions, all eyes fixed on the approaching threat.

Through the open territory, they spotted a single M1 Abrams tank slowly making its way toward their position. Before anyone could open fire, the tank's commander popped his head out, puzzled by the unusual silence in the area.

The tank's commander happened to be a member of the Tankery League, recognized by the Commandos. Just as he was about to survey the area further, a bright light blinded him. The Commandos had swiftly surrounded the M1 Abrams tank, pointing their PIAT launchers at it. Welsey Lieutenant Archie stepped forward and demanded, "Identify yourself, stranger."

"I'm Private First Class Jim Cooper of Tankery League Team Yankee 1-3. I was ordered to search for you high schoolers," Jim replied. Archie continued to scrutinize him.

"If you're indeed a part of the League under Marshal Commander Houston, then give us the League password to confirm your identity," Archie said, crossing his arms, with his Commandos standing ready.

Jim hesitated for a moment before asking, "Okay, what's the password?"

Archie leaned in slightly and asked, "Who are the Patriots?"

Jim's face brightened with recognition. "Wait... La-Li-Lu-Le-Lo?"

Archie couldn't help but smirk as he realized that Jim had indeed provided the correct League password.

With the correct password provided, Archie ordered his Commandos to stand down and had the searchlight turned off. The tension eased as they welcomed Jim into their midst.

"Alright, mate, you found us, but the question is, why did your commanding officer send you here?" Archie inquired.

"We needed help up north; we've been having trouble with some demon girl who's been disabling our tanks. I was sent on this mission to find you guys," Jim explained.

"Alright, I'll be leading you to our commander. Follow me," Archie said.

As Archie and Jim made their way back to the city, Jim was taken aback by the sight of the boys taking care of themselves. They passed the tank maintenance crew hard at work repairing damaged tanks. Jim also noticed numerous security personnel from the Davy Crockett Rangers and Grand Lake High Raiders patrolling the city, ensuring everything was in order.

"Wow... I didn't expect you boys to be this strict on security," Jim remarked.

"Yeah, this is the third time we've been attacked. We're taking everything very seriously because Commander Houston wants to make sure the enemy won't take this city from us. We're the only ones standing against the Federation advance," Archie explained.

As they walked towards the war room, where Commander Houston was expected to be, a group of boys from different high schools rushed by. One of them accidentally bumped into Archie.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," the boy from North High School apologized.

Archie quickly asked, "Trooper, what's going on? Why is everyone rushing?"

The boy replied, "Major Commander Welsey has challenged Marshal Commander Houston to a contest. We're all going to watch!" With that, he turned and ran to catch up with his friends.

Jim turned to Archie, utterly perplexed by what the boy had meant.

"Um, what does he mean by 'contest'?" Jim asked.

Archie chuckled and said, "You'll see... Come on." He continued leading Jim toward where the contest was being hosted, leaving him in suspense about the intriguing contest between the commanders.

The scene unfolded with Houston and Welsey standing on a small, flowing creek bed. They were engaged in a rather unconventional contest – fishing by hand. A crowd of boys and girls cheered them on from the sidelines. As the contest came to an end, Houston emerged as the clear winner, having caught 20 Arowana fish, while Welsey had only managed to catch 10.

Houston, now out of the water, was drying his hands with a towel. He wore a dark green sport shirt, and his tactical pants were soaked all the way to his feet.

"So, Welsey, how many did you catch?" Houston asked, his tone light-hearted.

"Ten so far," Welsey replied with a tinge of disappointment at his defeat.

Houston, ever the gracious winner, offered, "Look, I'll even the odds for you, Welsey, so you won't feel like a sore loser."

Welsey raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"How about this," Houston proposed, "you choose any one event, and if you beat me in that event, you win the contest. Does that sound fair?"

Welsey grinned. "Yeah, that does sound fair."

"Alright then, what's the next challenge we should take on?" Houston asked, ready for whatever Welsey had in mind.

Welsey pondered for a moment before suggesting, "How about... arm wrestling?"

Houston nodded in agreement. "That's fine by me. Let's do it." The two competitors walked over to a nearby table, ready to face off in the next thrilling event of their contest.

 The crowd of enthusiastic onlookers shifted their attention from the creek to the makeshift arm-wrestling table. The excitement was palpable as they eagerly anticipated the showdown between the two commanders.

Houston and Welsey took their positions on opposite sides of the table, their forearms locked in a vice-like grip. The cheers from the spectators grew louder, and bets were playfully being made among the onlookers.

"Ready?" Houston asked with a competitive gleam in his eye.

Welsey nodded, his determination matching Houston's. "Ready."

At the signal, the arm-wrestling match commenced. The two commanders strained against each other, their bulging biceps showcasing their strength. Their faces contorted with effort as they pushed with all their might.

The contest seemed evenly matched, with neither giving an inch for what felt like an eternity. Beads of sweat formed on their brows as they poured every ounce of energy into the battle.

The crowd cheered and shouted encouragement, creating an electric atmosphere. Friends and teammates of both commanders were torn between their loyalties, causing a spirited debate in the audience.

But in the end, it was Houston who began to gain the upper hand, slowly but surely inching Welsey's arm closer to the table. The cheers from Houston's supporters grew louder, while Welsey's fans held their breath, hoping for a sudden reversal.

With one final push, Houston slammed Welsey's arm down onto the table, winning the arm-wrestling match. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Houston flashed a triumphant grin

The cheers from the Davy Crockett boys continued as they celebrated Houston's arm-wrestling victory. "Don't mess with the Boss!" they chanted, their loyalty unwavering.

Houston, still in high spirits, turned to Welsey with a mischievous grin. "Anything else you're good at, Welsey?"

Welsey, undaunted by his earlier loss, replied confidently, "I can field strip and reassemble a firearm. I was the fastest one in England and in Washington Boys' and Girls' Academy."

Houston raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Alright, let's do it blindfolded."

Welsey hesitated for a moment, not expecting this twist, but he quickly grabbed a rag from one of his men and blindfolded himself. The two commanders sat down at a table with a disassembled airsoft rifle from their school laid out before them.

As the contest continued, the girls, including Erika and Maho, watched with interest. Erika couldn't help but voice her doubts. "Commander, do you think it's possible to reassemble a rifle while being blindfolded?"

Maho responded, her tone measured, "Yes, it is. But for Houston, in this case, let's see how good he is at assembling it."

With the command from one of the Davy Crockett boys, the blindfolded duel began. Welsey and Houston set to work, their fingers deftly navigating the various components of the rifle. The crowd fell silent, mesmerized by the unusual contest unfolding before them.

Welsey's struggle to assemble the rifle blindfolded was evident in his muttered comments. He fumbled with the pieces, his fingers brushing over various parts, trying to make sense of the task. It was a stark contrast to Houston's swift and confident assembly.

Finally, Houston placed his completed airsoft rifle on the table, declaring, "Done."

The Davy Crockett boys were quick to react, one of them calling out, "Stop!" They were genuinely impressed by how effortlessly their commander had assembled the rifle. Houston, nonchalantly removing his blindfold, lit a cigarette and surveyed the scene.

However, when he laid eyes on Welsey's creation, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Is that a model airplane?" he quipped.

Welsey, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, removed his blindfold and placed it on the table. He couldn't help but join in on the laughter. "Well, it seems assembling a rifle while blindfolded isn't exactly my strong suit."

The crowd erupted into laughter, and even the most serious faces couldn't help but crack a smile. It was a moment of lightheartedness and camaraderie, reminding everyone that even commanders had their moments of vulnerability and humor.

The next contest proposed by Welsey was met with intrigue and curiosity. "Speed eating? What's that?" Houston asked, genuinely interested in the unusual challenge.

Welsey explained with a grin, "We'll see who can eat the most of the fish we caught. The Arowana fish. And you can't boil them or grill them. It has to be raw."

Houston considered the proposition for a moment and then nodded in agreement. "Alright, raw it is. Let's do it."

As they stood before the thirty raw Arowana fish they had caught, Houston and Welsey prepared themselves for the contest. The boys cheered on the challenge, and Jefferson, Houston's vice-commander, couldn't help but chuckle, knowing what was about to unfold.

Dean, one of Houston's third-in-command from the Davy Crockett High, joined in the conversation. "Hey, remember when we had the same contest? One of the boys from Uncle Sam challenged Houston to a raw eating competition."

Jefferson nodded, reminiscing. "Oh yeah, Commander Edward. I felt bad for him; he couldn't stand eating raw fish. Houston just kept going, devouring dish after dish until poor Edward threw up after his first one. Houston was on his fortieth dish of raw fish by then."

Dean laughed, recalling another memory. "Yeah, good times. I still remember when Austin and Mark lost a bet against me because of that."

Back to the contest at hand, Houston picked up one of the live Arowana fish, his stomach growling with hunger. He licked his lips, feeling a gnawing hunger.

"It's been a while since I've done this... Well, here we go... Survival Mode!" Houston declared.

"Survival mode?" Welsey repeated in confusion. Before he could comprehend what Houston meant, everyone's eyes widened in astonishment as Houston took a massive bite of the live fish, devouring it entirely in one go. The crowd gasped in disbelief, watching their commander with a mixture of shock and amazement.

How is Houston eating the fish like

The sight of Houston's audacious first bite left the crowd, including the girls, utterly flabbergasted. Erika and Maho, who had been watching the contest with great interest, exchanged incredulous glances.

Erika couldn't help but voice her astonishment, "Did he just...?"

Maho nodded, her eyes still fixed on Houston. "Yes, he did. It seems he's taking this contest quite seriously."

The other girls from various high schools had similar reactions. Some covered their mouths in shock, while others watched with wide-eyed amazement. The boys were equally stunned, but a few of them who had witnessed Houston's competitive nature before simply grinned and nodded, knowing their commander's determination knew no bounds.

Welsey, now trying to catch up, took a deep breath and took a bite of the raw Arowana fish. The contest had intensified, and the speed at which they devoured the fish was nothing short of impressive.

As the two commanders continued their unconventional competition, the crowd remained captivated by the spectacle. The cheers and gasps from the onlookers added to the electric atmosphere as they eagerly awaited the outcome of this bizarre eating contest

As the eating contest raged on, Houston's determination and experience with raw fish became increasingly evident. Bite after bite, he continued to devour the Arowana fish with a practiced ease, hardly showing any sign of struggle. The crowd watched in amazement, impressed by their commander's sheer tenacity.

"I want some more!" Houston said as he eats another raw fish

On the other hand, Welsey, although initially keeping pace with Houston, started to falter. The raw fish's taste and texture began to take its toll, and his face turned several shades paler. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he struggled to keep up with his opponent.

The boys from various high schools, while cheering on their respective commanders, couldn't help but notice Welsey's distress. Houston's stoic determination contrasted with Welsey's increasingly uneasy expression.

And then, as the contest reached its climax, it happened. Welsey, unable to endure any longer, abruptly leaned over and vomited, his stomach unable to handle the relentless onslaught of raw fish.

The crowd gasped in sympathy and astonishment as Welsey took a step back, his face a mix of embarrassment and defeat. It was clear that Houston had won the speed-eating contest decisively.

Houston, not showing a hint of triumph but rather concern, approached Welsey. "You okay there, mate?"

Welsey wiped his mouth and nodded, managing a weak smile. "Yeah, just lost my appetite for raw fish, apparently."

The boys and girls in the crowd burst into cheers once again, this time in honor of their victorious commander, Houston. The contest had been an unforgettable display of camaraderie and friendly rivalry, and it had brought the different high schools closer together.

Archie's call to gather Houston and Welsey into the War Room, along with the League member Jim, marked a shift in the festivities. As they entered the room, Houston and Maho, the Marshal Commanders of the Joint High School, listened attentively to Jim's explanation of the situation.

Jim detailed the League's predicament, where they were on the defensive against a mysterious girl who was referred to as a "demon." She would sing an unusual and unsettling song before unleashing chaos on their tanks, leaving the League players in fear.

Houston summarized the situation, seeking clarity. "So, this 'demon' or girl starts singing a song before wreaking havoc on your tanks and causing fear among your players," he concluded.

Jim nodded, confirming Houston's understanding. "Yes. Major McKenzie believes that only you can help us face..."

Houston cut him off with a surprised revelation. "Wait, Major McKenzie is here on this island? It's been a while since I've seen him."

Jim was taken aback by Houston's knowledge of Major McKenzie, and the room filled with confusion as everyone turned to Houston.

"Yeah, I know him well," Houston continued with a smile, "he's the man I can trust, and he helped me through my PTSD recovery. There's no one I'd rather have in a foxhole than him."

With the brief detour into reminiscing about Major McKenzie, Houston refocused the conversation. "Anyway, let's get back on topic. You were saying?" He leaned in, ready to hear Jim's concerns and discuss the plan of action to deal with this mysterious threat.

As Jim recounted their struggles against the mysterious girl and her Centurion, he expressed the League's helplessness and fear in the face of this powerful adversary. It was clear that they were dealing with a formidable opponent, one who used her singing to disorient and terrify her enemies.

Miho couldn't help but inquire, "Wait, a Centurion? Does the singing sound like that of a little girl?"

Houston, with a sigh, acknowledged the girls' presence and informed Jim that they were on the same side due to some complications with the Federation. He urged Jim to answer Miho's question.

Jim nodded and confirmed, "Yes, her voice sounds like that of a girl. We don't know how she does it, but it's strange and affects all of us."

The commanders exchanged concerned glances. Muller, seeking to understand the situation better, asked, "Do any of you girls have an idea of who we're up against?"

Miho, with a hint of recognition, spoke up. "It sounds like it could be Alice Shimada from the All-Stars University Team."

Welsey's response was incredulous. "They brought in the College tank team to this island?"

Graham chimed in, speculating, "Sounds like Commander Chikai really holds a grudge against us for what we did to her."

Amidst the discussions and reactions, Houston remained silent, deep in thought. Jefferson, his Vice Commander, approached him, sensing his commander's contemplation.

"Commander, do you have a plan?" Jefferson asked.

Houston nodded, his determination shining through. "I do, Jeff... Alright, everyone, listen up."

All attention turned to Houston as he took the small emblems of each school and divided them into two groups. As he explained his plan, the commanders and representatives from the various schools listened attentively.

"Since we're going to help Jim and the League with their 'demon' problem, we'll split into two forces," Houston began, outlining the roles of each school. He detailed the mission objectives for each group, emphasizing the importance of cooperation and coordination.

Once Houston had laid out the plan, he looked around the room to ensure everyone understood. "Any questions or objections?"

The commanders and representatives nodded in agreement, ready to execute the plan and face the formidable opponent that lay ahead.

"Alright Gather your forces and let's move you're all dismissive." Houston said.

As Houston gave the orders, the commanders and their respective forces began to mobilize, each group setting out to fulfill their designated roles in the plan. Small forces were left behind to defend Pottsboro City, while the larger contingents moved out, led by Houston, Maho, and Miho.

They followed Jim's M1 Abram tank closely, the rumble of their vehicles echoing through the island's terrain. Houston's Ranger transport truck drove ahead, securing the path and ensuring it was clear of any threats.

Maho, positioned outside her commander's hatch on her Tiger I, took the opportunity to observe Houston. He was engrossed in his own world, wearing headphones and clutching a walkman that played information Miho had provided about Alice. Maho's gaze remained fixed on Houston as she grappled with her own thoughts.

Miho, noticing her sister's contemplation, have her Panzer IV drive closer to Maho. She inquired with concern, "You alright, Big Sister?"

Maho turned to Miho, her expression conflicted. "I'm fine... It's just that I have this strange feeling about Houston, one that I can't quite put into words or share with him."

Miho nodded in understanding, offering a reassuring smile. "Feelings can be complicated, but I'm sure he values you and your opinions, Maho."

Meanwhile 

In a hidden Forward Operating Base (FOB), Anderson, the enigmatic and ruthless commander, was cleaning his bloodied fists after beating one of the League's players to death. His brutality was evident as he showed no remorse or hesitation in his actions.

His lieutenant, wearing a mask to conceal his identity and using voice modulation, approached Anderson. The lieutenant's prosthetic hand and leg on his right side were reminders of the sacrifices made in their pursuit of power.

The lieutenant remarked, "You still haven't changed one bit, Commander."

Anderson, still focused on the task at hand, replied, "Of course, I haven't. Apparently, our prisoner didn't give us the answers we need."

The lieutenant inquired about their next course of action on the island. Anderson's response was laced with manipulation and a sinister agenda, "We wait for the helicopter I requested to arrive. It's such a shame that the League and Federation officials remain oblivious to what's really happening here. With Commander Chiaki on our side, I can finally exploit the pain and rage she harbors against us Americans."

The lieutenant understood the plan and acknowledged it with a simple, "I see."

However, their conversation was interrupted as the Vice Commander arrived, holding the masks of their fallen comrades – Crying Wolf, 'Rage,' and 'Fury.' She tossed them to the ground, delivering the grim news.

"It seems we've lost three of our members," the Vice Commander spoke through her voice modification.

The loss of their comrades fueled Anderson's anger. He punched the brick wall in frustration, expressing his fury at the traitorous Vice Commander, the one man he should have eliminated when he and his brother had betrayed their unit in Dallas.

"Damn that traitor! That leaves only four of us..." Anderson seethed, clenching his fists in anger.

The lieutenant, still calm and composed, offered his perspective. "Houston is formidable... No wonder he was able to best both of us before in Dallas, Commander."

Anderson's anger gave way to determination. He knew that their chances of victory were still high with the support of the Federation. The Vice Commander shared valuable information about Houston's movements, giving them the advantage.

"Don't worry, Commander. With our Federation allies, we've received reports from our scouts. Houston has split his forces to deal with the League's problem. He's traveling the route he believes will lead him to face Alice," the Vice Commander reported.

"Good... Now we can confront him there. Prepare our men. We'll catch Houston by surprise," Anderson declared, his focus set on his ultimate goal of taking down their formidable adversary.

A/n: Two memes for you Kingdiscord