The Red Ace Part 1

Flashback five weeks after the Dallas Incident

It shows blurry vision as the scene opens up with someone floating in a healing tank, with breathing tubes connected to the person's mouth, and green liquid inside the tank. As the person's vision slowly clears, they can hear sounds from the outside.

They hear the echo of footsteps in the room, and then one doctor appears, looking over the patient's vitals. The doctor is trying to determine the patient's condition and whereabouts. Soon after, another person enters the room, and the patient can hear the distinct sound of their shoes clicking on the floor. The patient inside the healing tank can only see a man standing there, wearing a nice suit, albeit stained with alcohol, and with messy hair.

Once the doctor finishes the daily check-up, he moves away from his computer and addresses the man in the room. He says, "Vitals are good. Circulatory system healthy... Brain activity is normal... The damage that he took from the bullet and the metal rod that we managed to pull out while he was... um, dead... but we brought him back to life, and we are keeping him here in this tank so that his body and the organs that have been damaged can heal and repair with the healing agent we inserted, sir."

The man in the rumpled suit nods with a mixture of curiosity and concern, his eyes fixed on the person inside the healing tank. He seems deep in thought as he observes the intricate machinery and the green fluid surrounding the patient.

"Remarkable," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a hint of awe. "It's incredible what modern science can do." He then turns to the doctor and inquires, "How long do you anticipate it will take for him to make a full recovery? And what are the chances of any complications?"

The doctor adjusts his glasses and replies, "It's difficult to give an exact timeframe, but we estimate that it will take several weeks for a complete recovery. As for complications, we're closely monitoring his progress. So far, there have been no significant issues, but we'll continue to observe him closely and make adjustments as necessary."

The man in the suit nods again, seemingly lost in thought. "Keep me updated on his progress, Doctor. He's a valuable asset, and I want to ensure he's back to full health as soon as possible."

As the conversation concludes, the patient in the healing tank continues to observe the world from behind the glass. 

The man in the suit, who is revealed to be the father of the person inside the healing tank, stands there, his emotions laid bare. Tears stream down his face as he places his hand on the glass, expressing his deep remorse and love for his son.

"I'm so close... It was my fault... My fault that this happened to you. First, I left the one who did this to you and failed to stop her from hanging herself so she could be with you. But saving you... I'll keep trying. Trying to save you... You were perfect, a perfect thing that happened to me... I love you... son," he says, his voice quivering with emotion.

As time passes, the son remains in the healing tank for two months. He slowly regains consciousness, his vision gradually clearing. He awakens with a deep sense of confusion and disorientation.

"Where am I..." he thinks to himself, struggling to piece together his memories. All he can remember is his last moments, lying on the ground in a ruined building, bleeding and facing a person who was supposed to be with him. The person aimed a pistol at him, their hand trembling, tears streaming down their cheek.

"I love you, big brother..." echoes in his mind, and he recalls that the person standing before him in his final moments was his older brother. The last thing he heard was a gunshot. The painful memory floods his mind, and his eyes widen with shock and fear.

In the present, as he opens his eyes, he's disoriented, surrounded by the green healing agent. Panic takes hold of him, and his heart rate spikes on the monitor. He lets out a muffled scream, feeling both confusion and the lingering pain of his past. In his distress, he calls out for his brother.

"DON! HELP!" he muffledly screams, but the scene gradually darkens, leaving him in a state of uncertainty and fear.

Red's abrupt awakening from the flashback left him breathless and disoriented, but he soon realized that he was in his big brother's tent. With a deep exhale, he gathered himself and slowly sat up in the bed, trying to regain his composure. The memories of his past were heavy, but he pushed them aside as he prepared to face the day.

Red got up from the bed and started getting ready. He put on his pilot jacket, a gift from Uncle Doyal, which bore the two patches he had earned. Looking at himself in the mirror, he managed a small, determined smile. Putting on his sunglasses, he added the finishing touch and then grabbed his older brother's Walkman. He pressed shuffle, and the music began to play "Highway to the Danger Zone" by Kenny Loggins.

With the music setting the tone, Red left the tent and stood outside, taking in the scene of his fellow Davy Crockett High boys going about their daily routines. As Red then went off to the war room to make a plan on how to find and save his older brother.

Meanwhile

As Maho sat for her medical checkup, Ben diligently went through the routine, recording her progress in her recovery. Maho's thoughts, however, drifted to the necklace she wore around her neck, a gift from Houston before Anderson arrived. She held the necklace in her hand, lost in memories of the past.

"I know you don't understand... You have no idea how much this means to me, Houston," Maho recalled her conversation with Houston. The memory took her back to a time by the lake near the city of Pottburg, where they had shared a deep conversation. Houston held small rocks in his hand and tossed them into the river, making the rocks skip on the water.

Houston listened attentively as Maho spoke about her internal struggle. "I see, but you know you have your own choice... You are your own person after all," he replied, casting another rock into the river.

Maho's gaze remained fixed on Houston's back as he continued to throw rocks into the water. "It isn't about me, Don... It's not very simple, as you can see. My sister can do that, but I cannot have a relationship with you. Once this match is over, I'll be already married to someone my mother has set up for me. I'll be continuing the Nishizumi style, and I'll be the one to replace my mother," Maho explained, her voice carrying the weight of her responsibilities and the complexity of her feelings.

Maho listened intently as Houston shared his thoughts and struggles with his family name and his past. She watched him throw another rock into the water, the ripples spreading across the surface of the lake.

"So you're loyal to your family name..." Houston began. "I used to believe in my family name, too, but what I did... I didn't just ruin it; I destroyed it. I used to be an heir of the great Houston style of Tankery, but after the Dallas incident, I lost myself and everything in that match. I quit Tankery when I was in my sophomore year of high school, but I made a promise to someone to join Tankery just to honor them, nothing more. Once this match is over, I'll go somewhere alone, a place where no one can find me."

Houston continued, "Besides... The reason I want to be alone is that there's nothing in me to give to anyone. I have no goals or future in life. I'm just an old breed of Dog of War. I have nothing to pass on to future generations. And if you're about to say that you do have something to pass on, yes, you might, but there are some things that are not meant to be passed on. Besides, my fight is over in Dallas. But there's one thing I need to do: finish this promise and then... erase myself from this Earth."

Maho felt a profound sense of empathy for Houston, understanding the heavy burden he carried. Their paths were different, but their struggles were relatable. She remained silent, her gaze fixed on the ripples in the water, unsure of what to say to him.

Houston watched as Maho, with a mixture of exasperation and concern, spoke her mind. He tossed his final rock into the river before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"You know, some things aren't that simple. Trust me, that's why I'm no longer an heir in my family name," he replied, exhaling a plume of smoke. "And you're kind of a fool for following what your mother is saying and going to meet this guy you're going to be forced to marry."

Maho didn't hold back her feelings, and her frustration with Houston's decision was palpable. She retorted, "Listen, Yankee. I do what I'm proud to do. To me, you're afraid of continuing your family name. I don't know why I have emotions or feelings for you, but hearing what you're saying, you're just too damn senile to face the truth. Wake up and face reality, Marshal Commander."

With that, Maho left Houston to his thoughts and his cigarette, the tension between them hanging in the air as she walked away.

Maho's thoughts were abruptly pulled back to the present when Ben's voice broke through her reverie. She quickly refocused her attention on him.

"Sorry, I was... daydreaming," she admitted, her fingers releasing the necklace she had been holding.

Ben nodded understandingly and got up from his seat. He walked over to the counter in the medical tent, glancing at the clipboard before speaking to her.

"It looks like you're clear for duty, Marshal Commander. But considering what you went through, I recommend you take things very slow. While you might be physically capable of driving and commanding a tank, in combat, you're still unfit to fight, especially after what Anderson did to you. It'll take time for you to become combat-ready again," Ben advised, expressing concern for her well-being.

Maho nodded, understanding the gravity of her situation and the importance of her recovery. She replied, "I understand, Ben. I'll take it slow and prioritize my well-being. Thank you for your guidance."

Ben nodded writing her a note and then give it to her she then takes it and was ready to leave out of the tent but however she then stops and look at Ben and spoke. 

"Ben... Back to your boys country what happened to you guys after in... Dallas... Don told me everything about how you guys went through during that match but... What happened to you boys after the incident." Maho asked. 

Ben's emotional recollection of the aftermath of the Dallas match was heavy, and his account of the mental and emotional toll it took on the younger generation was sobering. Maho listened, her eyes filled with sympathy and understanding.

"After the Dallas match, many of us boys suffered from PTSD," Ben explained, his voice filled with sorrow. "Some returned to their normal lives, while others sought help in Veteran Rehab or Mental Health Centers. We met older veterans who fought in real wars like Iraq, Afghanistan, and Vietnam, and they were shocked to hear what we, the younger generation, had gone through and the things we had to do to survive in that match."

He continued, "Some of us didn't seek treatment, thinking it was a joke. But when some of us returned to school, it didn't help. Some of us attacked other students for no reason, thinking they were the enemy. Others experienced panic attacks, believing they were still in that match, or they'd think they were holding guns and defending positions. The school counselors tried to help, but they didn't understand what we had been through in that horrible match."

Ben's tears were evident as he spoke about the deep trauma they had all experienced. "They don't understand how we, the younger boys, survived in that horrible incident," he continued, his voice heavy with emotion. "It was like we were fighting a real war."

As Ben recalled the brutal assault on Vermont Tankery Academy HQ, the scene shifted to the chaos and violence of that final battle. The infantry from Davy Crockett, Grand Lake High, and North High School pushed forward, using craters and tank traps for cover, with bullets flying all around them. Ben, along with other Davy Crockett medics, was shown trying to patch up wounded boys, working frantically amid the relentless gunfire.

"We've stopped the bleeding, we've stopped the bleeding," Ben declared with relief. However, their joy was short-lived, as a bullet struck the wounded man's helmet, killing him. Enraged, Ben threw the bloody bandages aside and cursed, yelling out his frustration.

"FUCK! Give us a fucking break, you fucking assholes, you Vermont bastards!" he shouted, the intensity of the situation and the loss of life taking a heavy toll on him. Another ranger quickly pulled him to cover, recognizing the need to protect their own in the midst of the chaos.

As Maho listened to Ben's account of what the boys had gone through in the aftermath of the Dallas incident, she couldn't help but feel the weight of their shared history. It was shocking to see some of the survivors of that horrible incident now fighting in this match, representing schools like Davy Crockett, Grand Lake High, and North High. Their determination to keep the tradition of tankery alive was a testament to their strength and resilience, and a way to honor the memories of those who had lost their lives.

"I see... Well, I just hope that when we end this match with Anderson and Chiaki defeated, then maybe things will go back to normal," Maho said, her voice filled with hope.

Ben, however, had a more personal request, "Yeah... I hope so too... Also, Commander... Please save Commander Houston..."

Maho nodded in response, determined to fulfill Ben's request. "I will," she assured him before leaving the medical tent.

Meanwhile, in another part of the camp, Red was deeply engrossed in examining his older brother's war plans. He was making improvements to the strategy when he was caught off guard by the presence of the Major's Commander, Muller, and other officers.

"Hm, I didn't know you were here, Red," Muller remarked, causing Red to jump slightly and quickly turn to face the others.

"Oh, you guys are here?" Red said, gathering his thoughts as he put down the chalk and garnered everyone's attention.

He began to explain his observations, "Alright, so after reviewing the battle plans you guys have and examining the placements of the Federation lines, I noticed a repeating pattern they seem to be using."

Elijah, with his arms crossed, inquired, "And what is that?"

Red pointed to the war map to illustrate his point, "You see, they are using old German tactics, like the invasion of Russia during World War II. It appears that they are replicating those strategies." His keen analysis prompted the group to consider how to counteract the enemy's approach.

Red's strategic insights and the knowledge of the city of Pottboro's potential allies offered a glimmer of hope to the group. His explanation of "old allies" piqued Graham's interest, prompting him to seek clarification.

"Wait, what do you mean by 'old allies'?" Graham asked, wanting to understand the details of Red's plan.

Red elaborated, "You see, Graham, remember my older brother's unit that he used to control?" Graham nodded, indicating his recollection.

"Well, he had loyal men from Vermont Tankery who defected and are currently waiting for him. Since I made radio contact with them, they'll be joining us. For now, they will be stationed at our FOB," Red explained as he pointed to the map.

Kay inquired about their specific roles, asking, "So where are we going to be?"

Red outlined their strategy, "We'll be attacking on multiple fronts, focusing initially on the Federation. After we deal with Commander Chiaki, we can address Commander Anderson and the remnants of Vermont's Tankery forces. Our primary objective is to finish dealing with Commander Chiaki."

Graham, interested in leadership roles, inquired, "So who will be leading the major campaign against Commander Chiaki?"

Katyusha, sitting on Nonna's shoulder, expressed her desire to be part of the action, saying, "Yeah, I've been getting tired of doing nothing. I want to get back at them so we can have them as our prisoners, forcing them to pull wheat out of our wheat fields and dig out the potatoes."

Red smiled and said, "Well, then you're in luck, Katyusha. You, along with Commander Graham, will be leading the campaign. The rest of us will be attacking on different fronts, forcing the enemy into retreat. The Davy Crockett Rangers and Tank will be tasked with cutting off their escape, while Commander Wesley and Commander Darjeeling will secure the supply routes, making it difficult for the enemy to receive supplies."

The group nodded in agreement, ready to put Red's well-thought-out plan into action. It was clear they were prepared for the challenges that lay ahead.

As Red concluded the meeting and named the operation "Cherrybomb," everyone began to disperse, each person preparing for their respective roles in the upcoming mission. Red was about to head out when he was called back by Major McKenzie, who had something important to discuss.

"Red, hold up for a second. I want to talk to you about something," McKenzie requested.

Red agreed and took a seat, waiting for the major to continue.

"After what happened in Dallas, how did you come back alive? Your older brother said he killed you by putting a bullet in you," McKenzie questioned, his disbelief evident. He struggled to believe that Red had miraculously returned from the dead.

Red took a deep breath and began to explain, "Well... You wouldn't have liked what you saw. What they did to bring me back to life was... horrible..." The memory of his resurrection was not one he wanted to relive, but it was a testament to the extreme lengths they had gone to in order to save him.

In the midst of the chaos in the hidden facility, alarms blaring and guards armed with non-lethal weapons rushing to stop someone from escaping, the scene shifted to a young Red. He was dressed in patient pants and had medical patches on, clearly in an unconventional situation.

As the guards passed by, Red seized the opportunity and began to move, desperately searching for an exit. His escape attempt was almost halted when he was spotted by one of the scientists. The two exchanged awkward stares, both realizing the precariousness of the situation. However, before they could react, the scientist's radio came to life with an inquiry from another person.

"Hey, what's going on up there?" the voice on the radio asked.

Red's instinct was to remain hidden and silent, hoping the scientist wouldn't reveal his presence. But the scientist didn't heed Red's unspoken plea and hastily radioed in.

"He's here! Subject is..." Before he could complete the sentence, Red swiftly knocked the scientist down, determined to maintain his anonymity. However, the noise and commotion attracted the attention of the guards, who quickly arrived on the scene, spotting Red and forcing him to fight his way out to escape.

The fight that ensued was fast-paced and intense, with Red's survival instincts kicking in. The guards, armed with non-lethal batons and weapons, closed in on him, and Red knew he had to defend himself to make his escape.

Red swiftly dodged the first guard's baton swing, his agile movements a testament to his training. He countered with a well-aimed strike to the guard's midsection, causing him to stagger backward in pain.

Another guard rushed forward, swinging his baton with force. Red parried the blow with his arm, wincing as he felt the impact, and retaliated with a precise kick to the guard's knee. The guard cried out in pain and dropped to the ground, clutching his leg.

A third guard attempted to approach from behind, but Red's heightened awareness allowed him to anticipate the attack. He spun around, delivering a powerful punch to the guard's face, sending him sprawling to the floor.

The remaining guards closed in, forming a semi-circle around Red. With a mixture of swift strikes, evasive maneuvers, and a keen eye for weaknesses in their defenses, Red began to turn the tide in his favor.

A well-placed kick disarmed one of the guards, sending his baton skidding across the floor. Red seized the opportunity, grabbing the fallen weapon and using it to fend off the remaining guards.

Each strike was precise and calculated, as Red aimed for non-lethal incapacitation rather than causing harm. He knew that his chances of escaping would be better if he left his pursuers conscious but subdued.

In a final surge of determination, Red fought off the last of the guards, leaving them disoriented and incapacitated. He didn't waste any time and quickly fled the scene, making his escape from the facility.

As he disappeared into the labyrinthine halls of the facility, the echoes of the struggle lingered in the air, a testament to Red's unwavering resolve to survive and make his way to freedom.

As Red raced through the facility's labyrinthine hallways, trying to escape, he suddenly heard his father's voice coming through an intercom. His father's words echoed in the sterile corridor.

"Red? Red, please stop! I know it feels hopeless, but what I'm doing is trying to protect you. Your older brother has failed to do so. Please, I didn't want to lose you after what I did for my past mistake, letting you go into that incident and having you killed there!" Red's father's plea echoed through the facility.

Feeling conflicted, Red paused for a moment, considering his father's words. But he knew he had to keep moving if he wanted to escape.

One of the corridor doors abruptly closed in front of him, blocking his path. Undeterred, Red quickly surveyed the control panel beside the door and forcefully pried it open. He hastily disconnected some wires, attempting to hack the door open.

With a mixture of determination and desperation, Red's efforts paid off as the door's mechanisms whirred to life, and it began to open. However, as it opened, Red was confronted by a new group of guards who had been waiting for him.

Red knew he had no choice but to face them head-on. The ensuing battle was fierce and unforgiving as Red fought with every ounce of strength he had left, determined to overcome the odds and continue his escape. The facility's harsh lights cast long, eerie shadows on the walls, and the echoes of combat filled the air as Red clashed with the guards once again.

The fight in the dimly lit corridor was brutal and relentless. Red's agility and training served him well as he faced off against the new group of guards who were determined to capture him. His determination to escape and his instincts for survival fueled his every move.

Red swiftly dodged incoming baton strikes, using his surroundings to his advantage. He spotted a nearby wall and used it to perform a backflip, landing gracefully behind one of the guards. He delivered a precise blow to the guard's back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Another guard swung a baton at Red, but he parried the attack with a swift defensive move. Red then used his momentum to deliver a spinning kick, knocking the guard off balance and disarming him.

Despite the guards' efforts to subdue him, Red's determination was unwavering. He used a combination of strikes, kicks, and well-timed counters to keep them at bay. It was clear that he had honed his combat skills, and he was willing to do whatever it took to escape from the facility.

As the fight raged on, Red's father's words continued to echo in his mind. He struggled with the emotions and the sense of betrayal that had driven him to escape in the first place. The memories of his past were a heavy burden he carried, but they also fueled his determination to evade capture.

In the end, Red managed to overcome the guards, leaving them incapacitated. He knew he couldn't linger, and with one final glance back at the facility, he continued his escape, disappearing into the unknown, determined to forge his own path and make sense of his tumultuous past.

Red's escape led him to a vast hangar filled with planes and helicopters, reminiscent of scenes from his favorite Star Wars movie. It was an unexpected sight, and for a moment, he was entranced by the sheer scale of the place.

However, the tranquility was short-lived. More guards, alerted to his presence, rushed into the hangar, determined to capture Red and prevent his escape. He didn't have time to marvel at the setting; he had to fight his way out.

As Red confronted the guards, his father's voice once again came through the intercom, interrupting the chaotic struggle. The heartfelt plea in his father's voice gave Red pause.

"Red, where do you think you're going? There's nothing for you out there, my son! Please, stop fighting. All I want is to protect you," his father's voice implored.

Red, caught between the ongoing battle and his father's plea, couldn't hold back his emotions any longer. He yelled out, "Protect me?! You failed to do so when you sent me and Don to fight in that horrible match!"

The emotional exchange continued as his father's voice resonated through the intercom. "I know, Red, but please! You are safe in here. Please, I don't want to lose you too. I will tell the guards to stop if you stop fighting! Why won't you say something? Talk to me, Red! I can fix our family! I can save you. Please, let me save you!"

Red was faced with a difficult decision, torn between the promise of safety within the facility and the overwhelming desire to escape from the life he had known.

As his father's pleas echoed in his ears, Red stood at a crossroads, his mind consumed by the turbulent emotions of his past. The guards continued to press him, closing in with batons and determination.

With renewed determination of his own, Red channeled his emotions into his movements. He fought with incredible skill and agility, pushing himself to his limits. Every strike and counterattack was executed with precision, as if his very survival depended on it.

Red disarmed one guard, sending the baton flying across the hangar. With a swift kick, he incapacitated another, rendering him unable to continue the fight.

The remaining guards, despite their training, found themselves outmatched. Red's fighting skills were a force to be reckoned with, a testament to his determination and training over the years. One by one, they fell to his relentless assault.

Despite the chaos and intensity of the battle, Red couldn't shake his father's words. The plea for safety and the promise of a different life inside the facility weighed heavily on him. But the memories of the past, the desire to forge his own path, and the urge to escape prevailed.

With the guards defeated and his choice made, Red spotted his old P-51 plane inside the hangar, fully restored to its former glory. The sight of his beloved plane surprised and reassured him. It was a symbol of freedom, a vessel that could carry him away from his tumultuous past.

Red wasted no time. He climbed into the cockpit, quickly familiarizing himself with the controls, and started the engine. The roar of the aircraft's powerplant filled the hangar, a sound that brought back fond memories.

As the P-51's engine warmed up, Red prepared for takeoff, checking his instruments and controls one last time. His heart raced with anticipation as he taxied toward the runway, ready to make his escape from the facility.

However, just as he was about to take off, the hangar's large doors slid open, revealing a waiting helicopter. The operator on board immediately opened fire, unleashing a hail of bullets aimed at Red's plane, specifically targeting his wings to disable the aircraft.

"Red! I'm begging you! STOP!" his father's voice pleaded desperately through the intercom.

Ignoring the pleas, Red skillfully maneuvered his plane to avoid the incoming machine gun fire. He knew that his escape was far from assured, but he was determined to leave the past behind and embark on a new journey of his own making. With a final burst of speed, he aimed the P-51 down the runway, lifted off, and soared into the open skies, leaving the facility and his past life far behind.

As Red's P-51 Mustang roared down the runway and lifted into the sky, he could see the facility and the helicopter growing smaller below. The feeling of freedom washed over him as he ascended into the open skies, leaving the confines of his past life and the facility behind.

His father's desperate pleas still echoed in his mind, but Red knew he had made his choice. He was determined to forge his own path, to escape the confines of the facility that had held him captive for so long.

With the wind in his hair and the clear blue sky above, Red set a new course, one of his own choosing. The past was behind him, and the future was unwritten. He was free, and he would make the most of it, on his own terms.

Red's newfound freedom was short-lived as his plane began to shake, and he saw eight Me 262 jet fighters approaching. It was clear that they were here to intercept him.

One of the Me 262 pilots made radio contact with him, relaying a message from his father. "Alright kid, listen up. Your father sent us here to convince you to land this plane so you can be with him."

Red's resolve remained unshaken. "Well, tell him I'm not going back there. I want to see my brother," he declared.

The Squadron leader, however, was steadfast in his mission. "I'm afraid that's impossible, kid. Listen, I'm just following orders. You either land this plane or we will force you down. It's your choice, kid. We're being paid for this."

Red was faced with a difficult decision once again. His father's offer of safety and the promise of reuniting with his family tugged at him, but the desire to see his brother and his longing for true freedom still burned within him. The Me 262 fighters circled around him, waiting for his response. 

With the Me 262 fighters closing in and no intention of returning to the facility, Red knew he had only one option: to fight his way out. He gripped the controls of his P-51 Mustang and banked sharply to the right, evading the Me 262s' initial strafing runs.

The dogfight began in earnest as Red engaged the powerful German jet fighters. The air was filled with the roar of engines and the chatter of machine guns. Red deftly maneuvered his agile propeller-driven plane against the more advanced jets.

The Me 262s attempted to close in on Red, but he utilized his P-51's superior agility and familiarity with his aircraft to keep them at bay. He fired short bursts from his .50-caliber machine guns, sending streams of tracers toward the approaching jets.

The Squadron leader's voice crackled over the radio, still trying to convince Red to surrender. "Kid, don't make this harder than it needs to be. Surrender now, and we can sort everything out."

But Red was determined to see his brother and chart his own course in the world. He pulled the Mustang into a tight climb, leading the Me 262s into a high-speed pursuit. The dogfight continued to unfold high above the open skies.

With precise control and expert piloting, Red managed to outmaneuver and evade the pursuing Me 262s, using cloud cover, barrel rolls, and unpredictable flight patterns to stay one step ahead. His bursts of fire were accurate, forcing the enemy jets to break off their attacks.

As the dogfight continued, the Me 262 pilots struggled to outmaneuver Red in his P-51 Mustang. Red's piloting skills were proving to be formidable, and he expertly targeted the enemy jets.

The squadron leader called out warnings and instructions to his pilots, trying to maintain some semblance of control in the midst of the intense battle. "He's coming in at point three. Watch out, Gold 3!"

Gold 3, feeling the pressure of Red's pursuit, desperately attempted evasive maneuvers, but Red's accurate shots hit his engine. Gold 3 lost control, spiraling out of the sky, and he quickly bailed out of his damaged aircraft. "I'm hit!" he shouted over the radio.

The squadron members were growing increasingly frustrated as they struggled to land a hit on Red. One of them yelled in frustration, "I can't get a single hit on this kid!"

Despite their efforts, the tide of the battle turned against them. Red's sharpshooting took down two more Me 262 planes in rapid succession, leaving the squadron leader in disbelief. "How can this single plane handle our entire squadron?"

The squadron leader was now acutely aware of their mission's priority. "We can't kill this kid. Remember, the boss wants his son alive!" he reminded his pilots. They were faced with an unprecedented challenge, trying to disable Red's plane without causing harm to him. The dogfight continued, a high-stakes battle in the open skies.

Red's determination and skill in the air proved to be the decisive factors in the dogfight. As the battle continued, he maintained his agile and unpredictable flight pattern, continually outmaneuvering the Me 262 fighters.

Despite the squadron's best efforts to disable his plane without causing harm, they were unable to land a hit on Red's P-51 Mustang. Red's precise control of the aircraft, along with his exceptional marksmanship, allowed him to strike the enemy planes' engines and systems, rendering them inoperable without injuring the pilots inside.

One by one, the Me 262s began to lose their ability to maintain the fight. The damaged aircraft either started to trail smoke, experienced engine failures, or lost control. Red's relentless attacks forced the pilots to make emergency bailouts, leaving their planes spiraling toward the ground.

The squadron leader, realizing the futility of their mission, reluctantly issued the order to disengage. "Fall back, everyone! We can't catch him. We'll report back to the boss."

As the Me 262 fighters peeled away, Red's P-51 Mustang remained unscathed, soaring through the clear blue sky. 

"Hm... Shouldn't have messed with the Red Ace..." Red muttered to himself as he flew alone, venturing into the unknown.

End of Flashback

"Red... are you alright? You've been lost in thought for over an hour," Major McKenzie said as he stood in the war room tent, watching Red snap back to reality.

"Uh, sorry, I was just daydreaming, that's all," Red replied.

McKenzie studied him for a moment. "Are you sure you want to save your brother, knowing that you're already considered dead? How do you plan to rescue him?"

Red's determination shone through as he answered, "I'll find a way to save him. Besides, I owe him that much."

Meanwhile, Maho found herself standing in front of Houston's tent as she made her way to the school camp. The memories of Houston, either standing outside his tent with a cigarette in hand or training with his Rangers, flooded her mind.

Stepping inside his tent, she gazed at everything left untouched. Maho's eyes welled up with tears as she looked around, and then her eyes fell on Houston's Davy Crockett Tank Commander uniform. She reached out and touched it, feeling a connection to him.

With tears streaming down her face, Maho hugged Houston's uniform tightly and lay on his bed. Clutching the uniform, she cried for him, feeling as though he was embracing her in that moment, bringing a sense of warmth and comfort.

The memories and emotions weighed heavily on her, and the pain of Houston's absence was palpable in the tent. Maho found solace in holding onto the tangible reminder of her love for him.

As Maho clutched Houston's uniform, tears streaming down her face, she whispered softly to the empty tent, "Houston, I miss you. I wish you were here with us. The tank battles aren't the same without you, and I'm not the same without you."

She continued to hold onto the uniform, finding a bittersweet comfort in its presence. The memories of their time together, the battles they fought, and the love they shared flooded her mind. Maho knew she had a duty as a commander, but in that moment, all she wanted was to be with the man she loved.

(Something like this and no Art is not mine)

Houston stood alone on the training ground, rain pouring down around him, a storm matching the turmoil within his heart. Commander Anderson, Sienna, and Anthony watched from a distance, clearly impressed by Houston's skills and presence.

As Houston took a few steps forward, the lightning illuminated his form, revealing his black Vice Commander uniform from his time at Vermont Tankery Academy, along with the mask that had become a part of him. The thunder and rain added to the dramatic atmosphere, underscoring the weight of his past and his secrets.

The scene changed with each flash of lightning, showing glimpses of Houston in various situations. In one moment, he was wearing the Davy Crockett sneaking suit, armed with a tranquilizer pistol and a knife, moving silently and with purpose. In the next, he was back in his Vice Commander's attire, the mask concealing his face.

Anderson and the others left him alone, and Houston found himself in a moment of solitude. He saw one of Maho's favorite flower petals floating in the air, drifting toward him. He reached out and caught it gently in his hand, holding it with great care. The memory of Maho flooded his thoughts, reminding him of their time together.

After escaping from Anderson's clutches, Houston had been tasked with helping Maho, who had been left in a vulnerable and unresponsive state after the trauma she endured. He had done everything in his power to support her, but the weight of his perceived failures in protecting his loved ones weighed heavily on him. Just as he had been unable to protect Red during the Dallas incident, he felt that he had failed to save Maho from her torment.

Tears welled up in his eyes, mixing with the rain that soaked his face. With a silent cry, Houston confronted the harsh reality of his past, acknowledging the inner demons that haunted him and the shadow of his old Commander who still held power over him. 

Meanwhile in Japan

Doyal and Delia were getting ready for bed. Delia, still dressed in her American Tankery League Chairwoman suit, seemed lost in thought. Doyal noticed her melancholy and inquired, "Delia, honey, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

Delia let out a heavy sigh and held up a picture of Don and Red when they were children. "Honey, do you remember the time when Red died, and we safely brought Don, our nephew, back home?"

Doyal's face clouded with sorrow as he recalled that painful event. "Yes, I remember. I can't forget how my younger brother mourned Red's loss and unjustly placed the blame on Don for his death. I still can't fathom why he would blame his own firstborn son, despite the visible injuries Don had sustained. I don't understand why he did that."

Tears welled up in Delia's eyes as she continued, "I can't make sense of it either. When I and his mother escorted Don to his bed that night, I couldn't help but cry as I carefully removed the uniform he was wearing, revealing the extent of the injuries he had endured."

(Again Something like this)

The weight of that tragic memory hung heavy in the air as Doyal and Delia grappled with the sadness that had cast a shadow over their family.

A/n So I Decided to make and combine Spector of Death and The Red Ace arc together so because you know Red and Don are brothers and such anyway hope you like it and I'll see you all the next one also here the onmake funny thing I made.

The scene depicts Edward, accompanied by Johnathon, Rivers, and Davis, all dressed in their paintball uniforms. They've been challenged by Houston, Graham, Muller, Wesley, and Elijah for a Commander Paintball match. As the four boys cautiously navigate through a dense bushy area with trees, Edward turns to the others and speaks.

"Alright, guys, we need to be careful. We know how skilled these guys are, so be prepared for any possible ambush," Edward says. The other three nod in readiness for the match when suddenly, they hear someone sneeze.

"Achoo!"

"What was that?" Davis asks.

"Aw, shit, they're onto us!" Elijah yells out.

At that moment, Houston, Graham, Muller, Wesley, and Elijah quickly emerge from the bushes where they were hiding and engage in a paintball firefight in the dense forest as "Fortunate Son" begins to play in the background.

P.S I would die of laughter if me and discord worked paintball match against our OCs