The Rise of Dog's of War Part one

Meanwhile, at the old abandoned Vermont outpost in Peru, the Laughing Jester walked alongside Kai as they overlooked the number of high schoolers gathered in the country for recruitment.

As the Laughing Jester listened to the radio, news of the ongoing conflict in America reached him: the American Tankery League was facing off against the Association and Federation. A smile crept across his face, knowing Houston was in the fray.

"At last... the civil war has started," the Laughing Jester said, his laughter echoing in the still air.

"What's so funny about that?" Kai asked, crossing his arms in confusion.

"Because the two people we hate are fighting against each other. While they're distracted, they won't even notice us slipping in," the Laughing Jester replied.

"I see..." Kai said, slowly grasping Robert's plan.

"But first, we need to get ready—especially you," the Laughing Jester added.

"Why's that?" Kai asked, curiosity piqued.

"Because I know you want revenge against Edward, and I have the tool that can help you achieve that..." the Laughing Jester said, motioning for Kai to follow him.

As the two walked toward the elevator, Laughing Jester pressed the button for the bottom floor. The elevator hummed to life, descending slowly. After what felt like an eternity, it stopped, and the doors opened to reveal a dimly lit storage room.

Stepping out, they were greeted by an oppressive atmosphere. The walls were stained with age and neglect, and faded emblems of the old Dogs of War loomed over them, their former glory now reduced to haunting shadows. A chill crept through the air as if the room itself were alive, whispering tales of past battles and lost souls.

As they moved deeper into the room, the doors to the storage compartments creaked open one by one, revealing old combat suits, each marked with the nameplates of the old members of the Dogs of War:

Hound Leader: Anderson's suit, a dark, rugged armor adorned with claw-like motifs, exuded an air of authority and tactical prowess. The suit's chest plate bore the scars of numerous battles, and its helmet featured glowing red eyes that seemed to peer into the soul.

Specter of Death: The Vice Commander's battle uniform, once worn by Houston, was sleek and form-fitting, designed for agility. The suit was jet black with silver accents, and its hood gave it a ghostly appearance. A long trench coat fluttered behind it, adding to its menacing allure.

Silent Cobra: Floyd's ninja suit was a terrifying combination of stealth and lethal design. Its deep green fabric blended seamlessly into the shadows, with reinforced sections providing protection. The mask obscured the wearer's face, leaving only piercing eyes visible, ready to strike from the darkness.

Fury: The pyromaniac's suit featured heavy armor lined with tubes and tanks, all interconnected to a massive flamethrower strapped to the back. The suit was charred and scorched, with scorch marks telling tales of fiery destruction. A mask with a twisted grin completed the terrifying look.

Chaos of War: Anthony's suit was a behemoth of metal and firepower, heavily armored and bristling with weapons. Its intimidating bulk radiated chaos, with a jagged, spiked design that seemed to scream for violence. This suit embodied the brutality of warfare.

Silent Death: Ava's sniper uniform was both elegant and deadly, designed for precision and stealth. Its fitted, dark fabric allowed for seamless movement, while an array of hidden compartments housed various weapons. The subtle floral patterns on the fabric added an eerie touch to its otherwise sinister appearance.

As Kai observed the suits, he noticed that Robert was already wearing his own uniform, the Laughing Jester's guise blending seamlessly into the shadows of the room. They moved to the center, where a small container awaited. Laughing Jester approached it, typing in a passcode to unlock it.

The container hissed open, revealing five vials of a glowing gene serum, each one promising to enhance human genetic codes. The eerie light from the vials cast unsettling shadows on the walls, dancing alongside the faded emblems of the Dogs of War.

The Laughing Jester held up one of the glowing vials of serum, watching the strange, almost hypnotic glow as it pulsed gently in the dim light. He looked at Kai with a dark grin.

"Before I inject you with this," he began, his voice laced with an almost sadistic delight, "you need to understand the risks. This serum... it's no ordinary enhancer. Once it enters your bloodstream, the effects will be excruciating. Your cells will tear themselves apart, rebuild, and tear down again. Not everyone survives it." His gaze was sharp, unwavering. "But you want this, don't you? The power... for revenge."

Kai's expression hardened with determination. Without hesitation, he rolled up his sleeve, exposing his right arm to the Laughing Jester. "Do it."

The Laughing Jester chuckled, a sinister sound that echoed in the silence of the storage room. He loaded the serum into the syringe, pressing it against Kai's arm. The needle pierced Kai's skin, and he felt the cold serum inject into his veins. At first, it felt like nothing more than a slight chill, and Kai exhaled, almost scoffing.

But then, the change began.

An intense itch spread through his arm and quickly radiated throughout his body. Kai gritted his teeth, then staggered as the itching morphed into a burning sensation. It felt as though molten lava coursed through his veins, igniting every nerve and cell. His vision blurred, and he fell to his knees, clutching his chest as agony wracked his body.

He let out a strangled scream, clawing at his chest as his skin started to redden, muscles contorting beneath. His shirt tore away as he ripped at it in desperation, desperate to escape the burning that seemed to consume him from the inside out. His muscles began to swell unnaturally, veins bulging and twisting across his skin like snakes as his body restructured itself, growing larger, more powerful. His fingers elongated, claws pushing through his nails, their tips darkened with a metallic sheen.

Kai's screams grew louder, echoing through the storage room, but the Laughing Jester only watched with a twisted smile, savoring the transformation. Kai's face contorted as his bones shifted and realigned, his jawline growing sharper, teeth elongating into fangs. His pupils turned to slits, glowing faintly, giving his eyes a predatory, almost feral look. His skin, glistening with sweat, took on a slight grayish tint as if his very humanity were being stripped away.

His body twisted in agony, every nerve screaming in protest, yet beneath the pain was a new, terrifying power that he could feel awakening. Kai's skin hardened like armor, and a faint aura of menace radiated from him. His breathing was ragged, his transformation nearly complete. Finally, he collapsed forward, gripping the ground, gasping for breath, as the burning began to ebb.

The Laughing Jester stepped forward, his smile growing wider as he crouched beside Kai's trembling form. "There it is," he said with chilling satisfaction, his voice a soft, venomous whisper. "The power you craved, the power to become something beyond human. How does it feel, Kai, knowing that you survived... and are reborn?"

Kai's breathing slowed as he rose shakily to his feet, his newfound strength pulsing within him, his eyes burning with a furious light. He looked down at his transformed body, his pain fading as a dark purpose began to take shape.

"Good," the Laughing Jester murmured, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Now... let's make them pay.

Meanwhile

In a lonely Japanese prison cell, Akari Adachi sat in silence, haunted by memories of her past mistakes. Only weeks ago, she had been at the center of the brutal Association vs. Federation match, torturing American students with unrelenting cruelty. Now, in the quiet of her cell, she was left to reflect on the decisions that had brought her here.

Why had she done it? She had taken out her pain on those young students, treating them horribly—all for revenge. She had convinced herself it was justified because of the man who had once meant everything to her, the man who had left her. Her memories of him were blurred now, but she could still see the fear in his eyes that day... the day he walked away.

Flashback

"This can't be..." the young Marine muttered, his face pale and voice shaking.

Akari's heart pounded. "What? What's wrong? What's happening?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion and worry.

He didn't answer her right away, frantically packing his belongings, his hands trembling.

"I... Akari... you're pregnant with my child. My family... they'll kill me for this. I didn't follow their traditions, and..." His voice broke, and he shook his head, struggling to find words. "I... I can't stay. I just... I can't."

Akari reached out to him, desperation filling her eyes. "But why? We can make this work... we can make them understand—"

"No, Akari," he interrupted, his tone hardening as he forced himself to avoid her gaze. "Forget about me. Our relationship... it was a mistake. It's over."

The words struck Akari like a physical blow, her mind reeling. She could see the pain he was trying to hide, the love he was trying to bury, but his fear was stronger. His family's expectations loomed over him like an unbreakable shadow, leaving him with no choice but to abandon the life they had dreamed of together.

He paused at the door, casting one last, longing look at her before pulling her into a tight embrace. She could feel his heart racing against hers, and for a fleeting moment, she thought he might stay.

But then, he let go, stepping back, his face a mask of sorrow. "Take care of our child, Akari. I wish... I could be there," he murmured, his voice breaking.

And with that, he turned and walked away, his figure retreating down the hallway.

Akari's vision blurred with tears as she watched him leave, her heart shattering with every step he took. Her hands clutched her stomach as if to protect the life growing inside her. Through choked sobs, she whispered his name, "Leonardo..."

Back in her cell, Akari held her head in her hands, tears flowing as she relived the pain that had defined her life. She had been abandoned to face a future without Leonardo, with no explanation beyond his family's demands—his allegiance to the legacy of the "Houston's Tankery way." She had never understood what was so important about those wild Texan traditions that he had chosen them over their child, over the life they could have shared.

The memories weighed heavily on her. After he'd cut off all communication, her heartbreak had only deepened, the stress and grief ultimately leading to the loss of her baby. In those long years, she'd grown bitter, blaming his family, the legacy of the Houston name, and the traditions that seemed to have stolen everything from her. She had convinced herself that every American Tankery boy would turn out the same, willing to abandon love and life for family duty. She had thought her cruelty toward the American students during the Federation match was justified—to prevent another woman from experiencing the same pain she had.

But when Edward had stood between her and Maho on the field, his dedication to protecting her, even as she carried his child, had forced her to see things differently. For the first time, Akari had realized what she might have done to their child if she had allowed her rage to continue unchecked. And now, with the weight of her actions crushing her, she had chosen to face the consequences, accepting that punishment was the only path left to her.

The cold silence of the cell echoed with each drop of her tears. Then, faintly, she heard something—a single, measured footstep echoing down the corridor, followed by a soft, haunting hum. The melody was familiar, a tune from one of the *Pirates of the Caribbean* films—the melody of Davy Jones's locket. The sound carried through the prison hallways, wrapping the cell block in an eerie quiet, each note haunting and mournful.

Akari lifted her head, her heart pounding as the footsteps grew louder, the slow, melodic hum getting closer.

As the footsteps drew closer, Akari's gaze shifted toward the barred entrance of her cell, heart pounding with both dread and curiosity. Standing just outside, she was stunned to see her younger brother, Kai, staring back at her. His face was hardened, his expression unreadable—a far cry from the boy she had known. She knew the risks he had taken by coming here, a fugitive himself, hunted by both the Japanese and American governments for the same crimes as hers.

"Kai..." she whispered, astonishment mixed with fear in her voice. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be—"

"I'm here to fix everything, sis," Kai interrupted, his tone low but intense. There was a determination in his eyes that Akari hadn't seen before, something fierce and dangerous.

Before she could question him, a figure emerged from the shadows beside him. Akari's heart skipped as she caught sight of a masked man, his face hidden behind a twisted smile painted on his mask—a figure out of a nightmare. The man gave a mocking bow, then raised his hand, revealing a blood-stained blade, freshly dripping from a guard he had just dispatched.

"This is my partner," Kai said, glancing at the masked man, who chuckled with a dark amusement that sent a chill down her spine. "You can call him Laughing Jester."

Akari's eyes widened, a shiver running through her as she looked between Kai and the Jester. She had seen cruelty and madness in her own life, but something about this man's presence radiated a deep-seated evil. The Jester gave her a small, eerie wave before he disappeared back into the shadows, his laughter echoing faintly.

"Kai, I... I don't want to be freed. I have to pay for what I've done," she stammered, taking a step back from the bars. But Kai wouldn't listen. He reached forward, gripping the bars and snapping them open with a strength she hadn't thought him capable of.

"This isn't a choice, Akari," he replied, his voice resolute. "You're coming with me."

She struggled, pushing against him, but his grip was firm as he pulled her from the cell, practically dragging her down the cold, narrow hallways. Akari resisted, pleading with him, but Kai's resolve was unshakable. As they moved swiftly through the prison, the distant echoes of guards' cries and gurgled screams filled the air, each silenced by the Jester, who slithered through the shadows like a ghost, dispatching anyone who dared stand in their path with a twisted pleasure.

"Kai, please—this isn't right," Akari begged, but her brother ignored her, lifting her in his arms when she stumbled. She could see the unyielding determination on his face, the quiet, deadly focus.

Bursting out into the prison courtyard, Kai tightened his grip on her as the Laughing Jester caught up, blood flecked across his mask as he grinned beneath it. Together, the three fled into the night, leaving the cries of guards and alarms in their wake, vanishing into the darkness before the authorities could even react.

The dim light of the pub cast a soft glow over Red's tired face as he stared at the blank document on his laptop screen, frustration simmering beneath the surface. With his left hand propping up his head, he tapped his fingers restlessly on the table, the stillness around him amplifying the emptiness in his mind. Writing after-action reports was never his strong suit; he was a fighter, not a writer. But, duty called.

He glanced up when he heard the door creak open, and in stepped Shadow, stretching with a casualness that belied the chaos they'd just faced. She wore her mask, the same stoic expression concealing her features, but her eyes held a glint of relief as if savoring the brief calm. As she walked toward him, she glanced around at the bottles of Japanese wine lining the shelves behind the bar.

"Bonjour," she greeted in her smooth, French accent, her voice a comforting presence in the otherwise silent room.

"Hey..." Red replied, managing a small smile.

Shadow eyed the laptop screen, seeing the blank document and the empty expression on his face. "Stuck on your report?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she walked over to the bar, her gaze scanning the labels of the wine bottles with a faint curiosity.

"Yeah..." Red admitted with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm a bit... lost. Don't really know where to start, honestly. I'd rather take on another fight than sit here trying to write this thing."

Shadow chuckled softly, taking a seat across from him and pouring herself a small glass of wine. "You always prefer the action to the paperwork, don't you?" She tilted her head, watching him thoughtfully. "Sometimes, you just need to let it flow—write what you remember. The good, the bad, even the things you wish hadn't happened. They're all part of the story."

Red looked down at the screen, her words resonating with him. He leaned back, considering where to start, recalling the sights and sounds of the battle in the eastern town: the chaotic exchanges of fire, the strength and resilience of his troops, the toll it took. He could still feel the weight of each decision, each risk he'd taken for his team.

He glanced back at her, a small spark of appreciation in his eyes. "Thanks, Shadow," he said, more sincerely. "Guess I just needed a push."

She raised her glass with a slight smile. "To surviving yet another fight," she toasted, her voice laced with a hint of pride.

Red picked up a nearby glass, mirroring her gesture, and clinked it against hers. "To surviving. And to finally writing this report," he added, letting out a short laugh.

The night air in the quiet pub was peaceful, and for the first time in a while, Red and Shadow found themselves in a rare, unguarded moment. They sat across from each other, enjoying the quiet and each other's company. Eventually, their conversation turned to topics they rarely discussed — especially love.

"So," Shadow started, a playful glint in her eye. "Anyone in your life, Captain? Someone special?"

Red chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, no one. Tankery and combat tend to keep me pretty occupied," he said, smiling. "How about you?"

Before he could even finish the question, Shadow cut him off with an abrupt "Nope." Her quick response caught them both by surprise, and they burst into laughter, the moment easing any tension left between them.

After a beat, Shadow's smile softened, and she looked at Red thoughtfully. "What about your brother? Houston... He ever have anyone special?"

Red paused, looking down into his glass, his expression turning serious. "Yeah, he did," he replied, his voice quieter. "Her name was Lisa. They were... well, perfect together. This was a few years back, when he was stationed in Vermont."

Shadow nodded, sensing the gravity in his words. "What happened?"

Red let out a slow sigh, the memories weighing heavy on him. "They were together during the Dallas incident. Lisa... she died in his arms." His voice grew rough as he continued. "Houston had to pull the trigger, himself. Ever since then, he's never really been the same."

Shadow's gaze softened with empathy, and she reached across, resting a comforting hand on his arm.

"And then," Red continued, tapping his chest over the two scars that marked him, "I nearly didn't make it myself. Got shot through the heart and... well, this," he added, gesturing to the long scar on his stomach. "A metal pipe, right through me. Supposedly 'died' that day, too."

Shadow's eyes widened as she looked at the scars, her expression a mix of shock and admiration. "You and Houston... both of you have been through hell."

Red nodded. "Yeah. We both have our scars. Physical, emotional. Sometimes I wonder if the things we've been through, the things we've lost... maybe they keep us from finding anyone else. Or from ever finding peace."

Red took a long, contemplative sip of his water, his gaze distant. "You know," he began softly, "sometimes I wonder if my family's cursed when it comes to love. It feels like anyone we truly care about... they end up slipping through our fingers. Dying in our hands." He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "It's a hell of a way to think, but... it sure feels like it."

Shadow watched him intently, a sadness shadowing her usual playful demeanor. "That's... heavy, Red." She paused, then, almost without realizing it, scooted closer to him. The wine had softened her guard, and before she knew it, her hand was resting on his. She looked up into his eyes, her own steady but vulnerable, revealing an unspoken truth she had carried for a long time.

"Red... I... I've felt something for you for a while now," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know it might sound crazy, with everything going on around us. But... I do. I care about you. A lot."

Red's eyes widened slightly, and he met her gaze, surprised yet moved. They sat in silence, the weight of her words filling the quiet air between them. 

Meanwhile

On the Western Front, in a small, dimly lit tent, Houston sat alone, his rugged face illuminated only by the glow of a dim lantern. In his hand, he held an old, weathered photograph, its edges frayed from years of handling. It was a picture of him and Lisa, her smile bright and radiant, a memory of a love that had once felt so sure.

Houston's thumb gently traced over her face, his eyes full of a sorrow that had long ago settled into the lines around them. The laughter they'd shared, the future they'd once imagined — it all felt like a distant dream, lost in the chaos of war and tragedy. With a heavy sigh, he lowered the photo, placing it carefully back into the pocket of his jacket, close to his heart.

He sat there in silence, a man burdened by ghosts, his memories the only companions in the darkness of the night.

As the morning sun cast a warm glow over the city of Hoja, Edward and Maho prepared for their departure. They moved about their modest quarters, gathering supplies and checking their gear. The atmosphere was filled with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, the air thick with the tension of what lay ahead.

Just as they were about to leave, Edward paused, feeling a surge of emotion. He turned to Maho, stepping closer, and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. The warmth of their connection brought a genuine smile to Maho's face, a moment of solace amid the chaos of their lives.

"You're clinging more than usual..." Maho teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Well, after everything that's happened, I'm just grateful for us... and for the future we're building together," Edward replied, placing a tender hand on Maho's stomach, where the first signs of their child were just beginning to show. "I can't wait for our future to come..."

Maho's heart swelled at his words, feeling the depth of his love enveloping her. "I know. Me too. Despite Samuel's warnings about me joining tank combat... I'm going to respect his wishes and won't participate in the fighting between the League schools."

"Yeah, especially with Houston and his Ranger unit continuing their offensive maneuvers," Edward said, concern flickering in his eyes.

"But I have faith in you and our friends," Maho reassured him, her voice steady and calming. "Sooner or later, this 'Civil War' match will come to an end... I can feel it."

"I hope so too," Edward murmured, pulling her in for another long, heartfelt hug. They stood there for a moment, lost in each other's embrace, their hearts beating in sync as they prepared to face whatever challenges awaited them.

A/n Something I made and brought back a meme I made. 

Edit A/N I had to make some edit's from here and there that all.