Western/Eastern Front's Part 2

Meanwhile at Houston's Camp

With many of the Rangers and their tanks having returned to the main campsite, some were chatting, others resting, or engaging in training, wondering when they would move out again. The scene then cut to Houston's tent, the entrance closed, with his loyal Rangers guarding the front, ensuring no one disturbed the commander.

Inside the tent, Houston sat alone. A cigar rested between his lips, and a lighter was in his hand. He struggled to light it, the clicking sound echoing as he tried. Realizing the lighter wasn't going to work, he let out a small sigh of annoyance, knowing he wouldn't be able to enjoy his favorite cigar. Frustrated, he set it aside and sat in silence.

The sounds of his Rangers bringing in prisoners—students from Uncle Sam Boys and Kuromorimine Girls'—filtered through the tent. Houston thought about the connection between the two schools. He could still remember their faces—happy, peaceful...

"Peace..." Houston muttered to himself, thinking of the prisoners' expressions.

His mind wandered back to the dreams of peace that Lisa had always talked about three years ago. She would constantly beg her older brother, Anderson, to hold a big party with no training or matches on a specific day she called "Peace Day."

Houston always held onto the last tape Lisa had given him before she died—killed by Anderson. He remembered hearing her final words during the Galveston match between Davy Crockett and Groton High School. On the tape, she urged him to live, to stop repressing the emotions he'd buried so deeply.

And she talked about how she could finally see her dream of peace coming true soon.

Houston's thoughts drifted further back, drawing him into a vivid flashback. He found himself in the past, at Vermont Tankery Academy, where he once served as Vice Commander. The lush green campus stretched before him, with tanks dotting the landscape, parked in neat rows after an intense training session. The distant chatter of students echoed across the academy, blending with the rustling leaves of the trees that lined the field.

He was sitting under one of those trees, the cool shade offering a rare moment of calm. Beside him, Lisa sat cross-legged, wearing her Vermont Tankery Academy uniform, the distinct maroon jacket and plaid skirt standing out against the greenery. Her brown hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and her bright eyes were full of optimism as she looked out across the academy grounds.

"You know, Don," Lisa began softly, her voice light yet filled with a quiet determination. "One day, I want to see my dream of peace become a reality."

Houston, younger and still full of fire back then, gave her a curious glance. "Your dream of peace, huh? You talk about it a lot. But what does it actually look like to you?"

Lisa smiled, tilting her head back against the tree trunk, her eyes gazing at the branches swaying gently above them. "It's more than just an end to battles," she said thoughtfully. "It's a world where we don't have to constantly fight just to feel safe. A place where schools like ours can come together—not to compete or show who's stronger—but to celebrate the strength we all have together. Imagine, Don, all these rivalries gone, replaced by friendships."

Houston leaned back as well, folding his arms behind his head. He wasn't sure he could see the world she described. Tankery was all about competition, after all, and that competition fueled the fire in their hearts. But something about Lisa's vision struck a chord deep within him.

"And you think that'll happen? Just like that?" he asked, skepticism lacing his voice.

"I do," Lisa said, her tone unwavering. "We just need to change how we see each other. The same energy we put into winning battles—we could put that into building something better. I want to see a day where we don't have to worry about the next match or the next conflict. Where there's no need to push ourselves to exhaustion just to prove something."

She turned to Houston, her expression earnest. "I believe in people, Don. In you. I believe you can make this happen. You care more than you let on."

Houston stared at her, unsure of how to respond. There was something about Lisa—her conviction, her unwavering belief in a better world—that he found almost impossible to dismiss. She was so different from everyone else in this high-pressure world of tank battles and military strategy.

"Maybe," he muttered, looking away. "But the world doesn't just stop because you want it to."

Lisa chuckled softly. "No, it doesn't. But we can guide it, nudge it in the right direction. Even if it's just a little."

The warmth in her voice lingered in Houston's mind long after that conversation. It was one of the many talks they had under that tree. The place had become their sanctuary amidst the chaos, where Lisa's dreams felt more tangible and the pressures of the academy seemed to fade.

Houston's fingers grazed the grass beneath him, the memory so vivid that he could almost feel the warmth of the sun from that day in Vermont. Lisa's voice echoed in his mind: "Peace is something we build, Don. And it starts with believing it's possible."

"Boss," came Jefferson's voice, cutting through the fog of Houston's thoughts.

"Huh?" Houston snapped out of his flashback, blinking as he returned to the present. He saw Jefferson standing at the entrance of the tent.

Jefferson casually adjusted the yellow scarf wrapped around his neck before taking a seat next to Houston. The two commanding officers of Davy Crockett High School had shared many moments like this—moments of reflection and quiet chatter amid the chaos.

"What's wrong, Jefferson? You come to relieve me?" Houston asked, turning his attention to his Mk.22 tranquilizer pistol. He was inspecting it, making sure it was in top condition in case a sneaking mission became necessary.

"No, Houston, I'm not here to take your place," Jefferson scoffed. "If I were, well..." He smirked. "Forget it. I'd rather stick to being a Vice Commander." His joking tone elicited a chuckle from both of them, the brief moment of levity welcome amid the tension of their situation.

"So, anything new to report?" Houston asked, setting the pistol aside and turning his full attention to Jefferson.

"Well," Jefferson began, "Joey's division finally made some progress defending the city, from Commander Johnathon and Miho pushing them back. Our airborne company—Red's taken to calling them 'Able' now—are currently engaged with Uncle Sam's Vice Commander and Kuromorimine's Vice Commander. I gotta say, I hope Captain Red and Lieutenant Shadow are holding their own over there."

"They will," Houston replied confidently, his faith in his team unshaken. "Anything else?"

Jefferson nodded. "Still no contact with Muller or Graham. They're likely still under siege, but our radio operators are working on establishing a line. In the meantime, Commander Wesley is locked in battle with Commander Davis and Darjeeling."

Houston leaned back slightly, processing the information. "That sounds like a hell of a front."

"Yeah," Jefferson agreed. "It's tense out there, but if anyone can hold the line, it's those two."

Houston nodded thoughtfully, his mind briefly flickering back to the battle strategies and the weight of leadership. "We've been pushing hard, Jefferson. But something tells me this fight isn't going to end anytime soon."

Jefferson sighed, his face momentarily serious. "It never does, does it?"

They sat in silence for a moment, the heavy weight of responsibility settling between them.

Meanwhile at Valverde City, the tension was palpable as the siege dragged on. The once lively city had become a fortress under the command of Muller and Graham, frustrating Christian and Nonna, who hadn't anticipated the fierce resistance they were up against. Despite cutting off supply routes to the city, Christian couldn't shake his irritation over how firmly the two commanders had locked down their defenses.

Christian stood overlooking the city's perimeter, observing four Panzer IVs in defensive positions, their accompanying infantry—wielding Kar98 airsoft rifles and MP-40s—securing the area. Graham's Marines, outfitted with M16A1 airsoft rifles, mingled with their German allies. Some soldiers played cards, while others kept a vigilant watch on the front line.

Nonna approached Christian, her presence calm but curious. "Any updates on their defenses?"

Christian rubbed his tired eyes, sighing. "No... everything looks the same as it did yesterday."

Nonna glanced at the city's distant walls. "It's only a matter of time before their supplies run dry."

"Yeah, but when exactly?" Christian muttered, frustration seeping into his voice. "I wish John could deal with Muller and Graham. I mean, facing Graham's Vice Commander on the east front wouldn't have been so bad, right? Last I heard, he and Miho almost wiped out one of their companies. I just wish I had been there for that."

As they continued to scout the city's defenses, one of Christian's men hurried toward them, his steps brisk and urgent.

"Christian, Nonna—Commander River and Kay just arrived," the soldier said, breathless.

Christian furrowed his brow. "Why are they here? I thought they were engaging Washington and Kansas teams with Davis and Darjeeling?"

The soldier shrugged, equally confused. "I don't know, man. All I know is that River said he needs to speak with you urgently."

Christian and Nonna exchanged puzzled glances before heading back to their command tent. Inside, River and Kay were waiting for them. Kay had her hands casually tucked into her Tankery jacket, her usual grin playing on her lips, while River stood with his arms crossed, his demeanor much more serious.

"Hey guys," Kay greeted them with her usual carefree energy. "Still fighting the Hollywood actor and the Nazi?"

Nonna gave a short nod. "Yeah, they've got the city locked down. Breaking through their defenses has been tough."

River stepped forward, his expression more grim. "That's why we're here. We'll handle the situation at Valverde from here on out."

Christian blinked, taken aback. "Wait, what? Why?"

River glanced at Kay before explaining. "Johnathon and Katyusha have requested that you and Nonna return to the eastern front. They failed to secure the final city against Grand Lake High's Vice Commander, and Miho is now marked. Joey's counterattacking, and the situation is spiraling out of control. Johnathon told us how bad it's getting over there—they're defending a small town and are hoping they can hold off Joey and his 'Soviets' might."

Nonna's brow furrowed. "It's that bad?"

River nodded. "Yeah, they need all the help they can get. Katyusha's holding the line, but with Joey's forces pushing in hard, it's only a matter of time before they breach."

Christian clenched his jaw, nodding slowly. "Alright. If it's that bad, then we're going back."

Kay shot them a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, we've got this. Go back and help Johnathon and Katyusha. They'll need you more than we do right now."

Inside Valverde City, the atmosphere among Graham and Muller's boys remained light despite the siege. Gathered around in a makeshift camp between the defensive positions, the troops were in high spirits, trying to make the most of the downtime. German Panzer IV crews, Marines, and infantry swapped stories and played cards, maintaining camaraderie amidst the tension.

One of Graham's Marines, Private Johnson, known for his pranks, decided to lighten the mood. He held up an empty airsoft M16 magazine, pretending it was a microphone.

"So, Müller, how do you feel about this siege?" Johnson asked, adopting a deep announcer voice. He turned to Müller's tank crew, who watched curiously.

Müller's driver, Kertz, played along. "Well, Johnson, it's been rough," Kertz said in a mock-serious tone, mimicking a news interview. "We're out here, stuck with the finest collection of the most bored Marines and tankers in the world. Morale is high because of my good looks, obviously."

This earned a round of laughter from the group, but Johnson wasn't done yet. He turned to another Marine, Corporal James, who was busy cleaning his M16. "And how do you plan to deal with the enemy? Any tactical genius to share?"

James, without missing a beat, responded, "Yeah, I'm thinking about telling them we're running a charity event—'Free Airsoft Shots for Every Enemy Commander!'"

The whole group erupted into laughter. The momentary levity was a welcome break from the seriousness of the siege, and even the Panzer IV crew, usually a bit more reserved, couldn't help but chuckle.

As the laughter died down, inside the command tent, things were more serious. Graham stood over a map of the city, discussing defensive positions with Müller, who was seated at the table, scribbling notes.

Müller glanced up, his face stern. "What's the status of that Marine squad you sent? They were supposed to scout the western outskirts. We need to know if they found any weak points in the enemy lines."

Graham folded his arms, nodding. "They're still out there, but we haven't heard anything yet. Radio's been quiet, but we should get an update any minute now."

Müller frowned slightly. "We don't have much time. They've cut off our supply lines, and we need to find a way to break out of this siege. If they found anything, we'll need to act fast."

Graham took a deep breath. "I know, Müller. I sent Sergeant Bennett with the squad. He's one of the best. If there's a way through, he'll find it."

Müller rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Bennett, huh? I hope you're right. If we don't get out of this soon, we'll be sitting ducks when they decide to press their advantage."

Graham glanced at the radio operator, who was constantly trying to establish contact. "We'll hear from them soon," he said, more to reassure himself than Müller.

Müller tapped the table with a finger. "We better. Our position is solid, but it won't hold forever. Especially with Christian and Nonna waiting for the right moment to break through."

As Graham and Müller waited in tense anticipation for the radio update, the silence outside was suddenly shattered by a distant explosion. The ground rumbled as a wave of panic swept through the city's defensive positions.

One of the Marines burst into the command tent, out of breath and wide-eyed. "Commander Graham! Commander Müller! We're under attack! Enemy forces are moving in on our positions!"

Both commanders exchanged a sharp glance, the moment of calm shattering instantly. Without wasting time, they bolted from the tent.

Outside, chaos was already unfolding. Explosions rocked the city's outer defenses as enemy artillery fire rained down. Panzer IVs and Marines scrambled to their positions, ducking for cover as sniper fire picked off some of the exposed sentries.

Graham grabbed his radio as he dashed toward his M60 tank, barking orders. "All units! Defensive positions! Hold your lines! Do not let them breach the perimeter!"

Meanwhile, Müller, calm but intense, shouted for his crew. "Get to the Tiger I! Now!" He sprinted toward the massive German tank, his crew already prepping it for action. Müller vaulted onto the tank, pulling himself into the commander's hatch as the roar of its engine thundered to life. He quickly scanned the battlefield.

Graham slid into his M60's commander's seat, pulling down the hatch and activating his radio again. "Give me a report on the sniper fire!"

"Sir, they've got marksmen set up outside the city!" came the frantic voice from one of the infantry squads. "Our tanks are being picked off one by one!"

Graham gritted his teeth, his mind racing. "Hold tight, we'll take care of it!"

As River and his tankery team advanced toward the city, their tanks moved cautiously, maintaining a calculated distance from the massive E-75 heavy tanks that formed the spearhead of the assault. The monstrous German steel beasts rolled forward with their thick armor deflecting the occasional fire from the defenders, their massive guns poised to bring devastation. River, sitting inside his lead tank, issued orders with a calm but determined tone.

"Keep your spacing! Don't let them bait us into a close engagement—hold steady and let the E-75s soak up the pressure."

To the side of River's formation, Kay and her Saunders High team pushed up, their lighter and more mobile Shermans darting around, providing support fire as they advanced alongside River's boys. Over the radio, Kay's voice crackled through with her signature lightheartedness, despite the intense situation.

"Well, River, looks like we're in for a show! Keep those big boys of yours safe, and we'll take care of the rest!"

River smirked inside his tank, recognizing Kay's confidence. "Copy that, Kay. Just keep us covered from any flanking moves. Müller's and Graham's forces are hanging on by a thread inside the city, and we're their only way out."

In the distance, through the haze of smoke and dust, River could hear the shouts of Müller's boys echoing through the city streets. They were barking orders in German as they manned defensive positions. The sounds of Panzer IVs and infantry struggling to hold back the relentless assault were accompanied by bursts of automatic fire and the distinctive booms of tank cannons firing.

Further ahead, Graham's men were in a far worse state. The defensive lines were starting to buckle under the combined assault from River's and Kay's teams. Graham's forces, made up of a mix of American and German infantry, were struggling to maintain cohesion as the assault pressed harder.

Inside his M60, Graham grimaced, surveying the situation through his periscope. His defenses were being outflanked, and it was clear that they couldn't hold out much longer without reinforcements.

Gritting his teeth, Graham grabbed his radio. "This is Commander Graham to all units! We need the tank overwatch to engage, now! Bring in the heavy support—get me those precision strikes we talked about!"

The radio crackled in response as the overwatch teams, stationed further back and tasked with providing long-range support, activated their fire mission.

"Overwatch in position! Coordinates locked in!"

Graham could hear the powerful rumble of the distant heavy guns and long-range tank destroyers coming to life. The first few strikes came crashing down like thunder, and in a matter of seconds, accurate artillery and anti-tank fire were smashing into River's advancing forces.

River's tank shuddered as a massive shell exploded nearby, sending debris flying. His crew ducked instinctively as the E-75 to his right took a direct hit, causing sparks and smoke to billow from its armor. The heavy tank groaned but held steady, its thick plating absorbing the damage. However, River knew they couldn't withstand that kind of firepower for long.

"Damn it, they've got overwatch on us! Kay, we're taking serious hits out here!"

Kay's voice came back over the radio, still focused but with a hint of concern. "I see it! We're pulling back a bit to get out of their firing range—those shells are tearing us up."

River glanced at the surrounding battlefield as more shells from the overwatch slammed into the ground, churning up dirt and metal. His mind raced as he considered his options. He had to think fast if they were going to break through.

"Graham's got that overwatch dialed in perfectly," River muttered to himself, then raised his radio. "All tanks, fall back slightly—regroup behind the E-75s! We need to regroup and push on their flanks! If we stay out here in the open, they'll pin us down!"

Graham, still observing from the safety of his M60, watched as River's and Kay's forces began to pull back slightly, repositioning themselves. He smiled grimly, knowing the overwatch was doing its job. But he wasn't satisfied yet.

"Keep up the pressure! Don't let them reorganize! Push the artillery to full fire—maximum barrage!"

As the overwatch units adjusted their targeting, even more fire rained down on River's and Kay's teams, threatening to overwhelm them.

River, now repositioned, gathered his breath and gave the next set of orders. "We're not breaking off, boys. We need to outflank them and take out that overwatch. Kay, swing wide with your Shermans, and let's knock those guns out."

As the battle raged on, Kay's Shermans darted around the edges of the city, using their superior speed to outmaneuver Graham's artillery positions. The overwatch that had been raining hell on River's forces was now in her sights.

"Alright, girls, time to take out the trash!" Kay's voice came through the comms, a mix of excitement and determination. "Target those artillery pieces! Fire on my mark!"

Her Shermans moved swiftly, dodging sporadic fire from enemy positions. Kay's lead tank, the "Sherman Easy Eight," lined up its shot. The crew worked in sync, the gunner adjusting the sights as Kay gave the final command.

"Mark! Fire!"

The 76mm cannon boomed, sending a round streaking across the battlefield. It slammed into the nearest artillery piece, detonating it in a massive explosion of fire and shrapnel. Several other Shermans followed suit, their shots taking out more artillery in a matter of minutes.

"Nice shot!" Kay grinned, the fiery glow of the destroyed artillery lighting up her face inside the tank. "Alright, let's clean up the rest!"

Within moments, Graham's once-formidable overwatch was in shambles, the heavy guns and tank destroyers now reduced to smoldering wrecks. Kay's team celebrated their success, but the battle was far from over.

Back in the heart of the city, Müller saw the carnage unfold from his command post, frustration tightening his features. His Panzer Division was still dug in around the city's defensive positions, but with the artillery gone, River and Kay's forces would soon have the upper hand.

Müller slammed his fist down on the radio, barking orders in German. "Alle Panzer, formieren! Wir müssen zurückschlagen, bevor sie uns überwältigen! Los, los!"

The familiar rumble of Panzer IVs and Tigers filled the air as Müller's Panzer Division began to mobilize. He climbed into his Tiger I, his crew scrambling to get into position. As the engine roared to life, Müller spoke into his comms to rally his forces.

"Panzer, follow my lead! We're pushing back those American dogs and their British allies!"

The ground shook as the heavy German armor rolled out from the defensive lines, their cannons aimed at River's and Kay's advancing tanks. The Panzers took up positions in the rubble of the city's outskirts, ready to meet the enemy head-on.

Meanwhile, back at River's command, the mood had shifted from cautious optimism to renewed tension. His forces had pushed the offensive, but with Müller's counterattack looming, the tide of battle could easily swing back in favor of the defenders.

Inside his tank, River monitored the situation, grimacing at the sight of the Panzers advancing.

"Looks like Müller's bringing out the big guns," he muttered to his crew. "We've got Tiger and Panther's moving in from the north side. Get ready for a brawl."

He switched channels to Kay's frequency. "Kay, Müller's launching a counterattack. Panzers incoming from the north. I need you to keep flanking them—we can't let those heavies bog us down!"

Kay's response came quickly, her upbeat tone still intact despite the escalating battle. "Copy that, River! We'll keep hitting them from the sides. Let's show them what speed can do!"

As River's tanks braced for the counterattack, Graham's forces, though battered, were far from defeated. In his M60, Graham clenched his fists as he assessed the battlefield. The loss of the artillery was a major blow, but his defensive lines were still holding.

He grabbed his radio and issued orders to his infantry and remaining tanks. "Everyone hold the line! We can't let them break through! Keep those Shermans off our flanks, and target the E-75s—they're the biggest threat!"

Graham's Marines, hunkered down alongside Müller's boys, opened fire with their airsoft M16A1s, covering the Panzers' advance. The combined forces of American and German infantry held firm in the streets, using the rubble and destroyed buildings for cover. Despite the chaos, the two teams worked in sync, knowing the stakes were high.

River's tanks met Müller's Panzers with a thunderous crash. The sound of tank shells ricocheting off armor and the roar of engines filled the air. River's lead tank fired a shot that struck the side of a Panzer IV, sending it spinning out of control before it exploded in a ball of fire.

"Nice shot!" River called out to his gunner before grabbing the radio again. "Push forward! We've got to punch through their lines before they can regroup!"

However, Müller was no amateur. From inside his Tiger, he directed his forces with precision. His Panzer IVs worked to surround River's tanks, while the heavier Tigers took up key positions, using their superior firepower to keep the E-75s at bay.

Müller's voice crackled over the radio to his crew. "Ziel auf ihre schweren Panzer! Bringt die E-75s zu Fall, und die Schlacht gehört uns!"

A Tiger I fired its 88mm gun, the round slamming into the side of one of River's E-75s. The massive tank shuddered but remained intact, its thick armor barely holding up under the assault.

River saw the danger and called out over the radio, his voice urgent. "E-75s, fall back! They're focusing on you—don't get bogged down!"

As the heavy tanks began to reposition, Graham saw his opening. With a grim smile, he grabbed his radio. "All units, focus fire on River's flanking units! Don't let them sweep us!"

From their entrenched positions, Graham's remaining tanks and infantry poured fire on River's Shermans and support units, slowing their advance. The counterattack was fierce, and despite the destruction of the overwatch, Graham and Müller's forces were holding firm, refusing to give an inch.

The battle had reached a fever pitch, with both sides taking heavy losses. River knew that if they couldn't break through soon, they'd be stuck in a bloody stalemate.

Kay's voice came through the comms, a bit more serious now. "River, we're taking heat on the flanks. Müller's got those Panzers positioned perfectly. What's the plan?"

River took a deep breath, his mind racing. He knew that to win this fight, they'd have to outthink their opponents, not just outgun them.

"Kay, keep hitting those Panzers from the side. We'll push the E-75s straight through the center. If we can split their lines, we can cut off Müller's counterattack. It's risky, but it's our best shot."

Kay chuckled, her usual confidence shining through. "Got it, River. Let's go show these boys how it's done!"

River's E-75 tank fired its main gun, taking out one of Müller's Panzer IVs, while Kay's Shermans flanked the enemy, disabling another Tiger. Müller and Graham's forces were putting up a fierce resistance, but their lines were starting to crumble under the coordinated assault.

A loud metallic screech filled the air as one of Graham's M60 tanks took a direct hit from Kay's lead Sherman, marking the end of its fight. Graham, sitting inside his disabled tank, clenched his fists, frustrated by how fast things had turned against them.

"Alright, this is it!" River's voice came through Kay's radio, determination flooding his tone. "Push them back! Let's wrap this up!"

Kay grinned. "Already on it!" Her Shermans fired another round, disabling another Panzer. The tide of the battle had decisively turned.

As Müller's Tiger was hit with a disabling shot, the tank came to a grinding halt. He swore under his breath in German, slamming his fist against the interior of the tank. "Verdammt!"

Graham, frustrated but still trying to keep his cool, wiped the sweat from his brow and slicked back his hair with a practiced motion, his Hollywood charm still intact despite the chaos.

With their tanks now out of commission, Graham and Müller had no choice but to step out onto the battlefield. The hatches of their tanks creaked open, and both commanders climbed out, dusting themselves off. Müller moved with precision, his jaw set in quiet anger, while Graham tried to maintain his trademark casual attitude, even under the pressure.

River and Kay emerged from their tanks as well, their presence commanding respect. River's eyes locked on Graham, who was already walking towards him, that smug Hollywood smile still on his face despite the loss.

"Well, well, well..." Graham said as he strode up to River, adjusting his stance like a movie star walking onto a set. "If it isn't Special Agent Rivers." The line was delivered with perfect timing, quoting one of Graham's famous films where he played an undercover agent.

River, however, was unimpressed. He stopped just short of Graham, folding his arms across his chest. "I hated that movie," he replied bluntly, his face a mix of disdain and amusement.

The two men stood there, tension filling the air between them. Then, without warning, River threw a hard punch, hitting Graham square in the jaw. Graham stumbled back, clearly taken off guard by the sudden attack, his sunglasses flying off his face and clattering to the ground. He stood there for a moment, stunned, before slowly bringing a hand up to his face, rubbing the spot where River had hit him.

Graham looked down at his broken sunglasses, sighed dramatically, and then casually bent down to pick them up. He looked at the shattered lenses with an air of disappointment before tossing them to the side. Then, in typical Hollywood fashion, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a brand-new pair of sunglasses, which he unfolded and put on with a flourish.

But before placing them on fully, Graham paused, sticking his middle finger out and using it to push the glasses into place on his nose. His lips twisted into a cocky smile as he flicked the middle finger towards River and Kay, taunting them.

"Nice shot, Rivers," Graham said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But it's gonna take more than that to knock the star of the show out of the picture."

Kay, standing off to the side, couldn't help but chuckle at Graham's theatricality. "Well, look at that," she said with a smirk. "The actor still thinks he's in a movie. Too bad this is real life."

Müller, now standing beside Graham, crossed his arms as he glared at River and Kay. His patience was clearly wearing thin, but he kept his composure. "This isn't over yet," Müller growled in his thick German accent. "We may have lost the tanks, but we won't lose this battle."

River cracked his knuckles, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward. "Bring it on, then. We'll settle this the old-fashioned way." 

Graham cracked his neck and adjusted his jacket, his smirk unwavering. He threw off the last bit of pretense and fully embraced the role of the cocky fighter, just like his character from one of his earlier Hollywood films. He took a quick stance, legs apart, fists raised, moving with the fluidity of a practiced actor who'd choreographed fight scenes a hundred times. throwing a few shadow punches in the air, clearly showing off for the onlookers.

River, on the other hand, was all business. He clenched his fists tightly, eyes laser-focused on Graham. His stance was solid, grounded, the kind of combat posture someone who had been in actual life-or-death fights would take. He wasn't here to put on a show—he was here to take Graham down.

"Come on, Rivers, let's see what you've got," Graham taunted, bouncing lightly on his toes. "I hope you're better at this than you are at liking my movies."

With that, Graham darted forward, launching a quick flurry of jabs, much like the cocky moves of Johnny Cage. River dodged most of them with ease, but one grazed his cheek. Graham then spun into a flashy roundhouse kick, aimed right at River's midsection.

River ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow, and countered with a solid punch to Graham's ribs, making him grunt in pain. River didn't stop there—he followed up with a knee to Graham's gut, doubling him over.

"Not bad," Graham coughed, trying to shake it off. "But I'm just getting warmed up."

Graham, still cocky, tried to replicate one of Johnny Cage's signature moves—he jumped into a split and went for a low blow punch aimed at River's groin, thinking it'd stun him just like it did in the movies. But River had seen enough of Graham's films to know what was coming. He sidestepped the punch with a disgusted look on his face, muttering, "Seriously?"

Before Graham could get back up, River landed a brutal kick to his chest, sending him flying back into a stack of crates. The sound of splintering wood filled the air as Graham crashed into them, coughing from the impact.

Meanwhile, Müller and Kay had squared off on their own. Müller, more of a brawler, relied on brute strength, charging at Kay with powerful swings. His punches were hard and deliberate, but Kay was quick, bobbing and weaving out of Müller's range with agility.

"You think you can outlast me, Müller? You might be a tank on the battlefield, but I'm lightning fast!" Kay taunted as she dodged another wild swing from him.

Müller grunted in frustration, throwing a heavy hook aimed at Kay's jaw. But Kay ducked just in time and retaliated with a sharp uppercut to Müller's chin, followed by a swift kick to his knee, causing the larger man to stagger.

Back with Graham and River, Graham had finally gotten back on his feet, adjusting his sunglasses—which, despite everything, were somehow still intact. With a cocky grin, he put his fists up again, moving side to side in a flashy, exaggerated way.

"You fight like a man out of time, Rivers," Graham jeered. "Let's give the audience what they came to see!"

River didn't bother with banter. He charged forward with a series of rapid, precise punches, catching Graham off guard. Each hit landed with a satisfying crack of knuckle against flesh, driving Graham back. River was faster than Graham had expected, and each punch left him struggling to keep up.

Desperate, Graham went for another move—he jumped back, doing a spinning shadow kick. But River saw it coming a mile away. He ducked under the kick and delivered a bone-crushing elbow strike to Graham's side, making the actor/commander wince in pain.

Graham's bravado was starting to fade as River pressed the attack, slamming his fist into Graham's stomach with such force that it knocked the wind out of him. As Graham stumbled back, gasping for air, River grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the ground with a heavy thud.

"Is that all you've got, Hollywood?" River growled, standing over him.

But Graham, ever the showman, wasn't done yet. With a smirk despite the pain, he struggled to his feet, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "Round two," he said with a wink, clearly referencing one of his cheesy movie lines.

Without warning, he threw a handful of dirt in River's face, temporarily blinding him. Taking advantage of the moment, Graham swung a powerful hook at River's jaw, finally landing a solid hit. River stumbled back, wiping the dirt from his eyes, furious now.

But Graham wasn't as fast as he thought. River recovered quickly, his vision clearing just in time to block Graham's next attack. He grabbed Graham's arm mid-swing and twisted it, flipping him over onto the ground.

"Stay down," River warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Müller, seeing his comrade in trouble, let out a furious roar and charged at River, but Kay intercepted him, landing a clean kick to his ribs, causing him to grunt in pain and fall back.

As the dust settled, it was clear that River and Kay had the upper hand. Graham and Müller, though tough and proud, were outclassed in this fight. Bruised and beaten, Graham finally held up his hands in mock surrender, his breath labored.

"Alright you got us...." Graham said trying to catch his breath but later passed out on the floor falling next to Muller as the two were lay out.

As the battle raged on at the eastern front, Captain Red Houston, clad in his airborne captain uniform, rallied his men. The airborne company from Davy Crockett High, known now as "Able," stormed toward the small town, where Uncle Sam's forces and Kuromorimine Girls' Academy held control. Despite being outgunned and out-armored with minimal tank support, Red's leadership had kept morale high and confidence unshaken. The anti-tank weapons they carried were all they needed.

"Move it, 'Able'! Push forward!" Red's voice cut through the chaos, his command carrying urgency yet assurance as the men surged behind him. Dust kicked up around them as boots hit the ground, and the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions echoed through the air.

"Come on, you apes! You wanna live forever?!" Thompson, one of Red's boldest squad leaders, shouted to the charging troops, his voice filled with raw adrenaline. The airborne boys roared in response, their eyes fixed on the objective: to take back the town.

As they entered the outskirts of the town, Red's sharp eyes scanned the battlefield. The enemy had entrenched themselves well, with machine-gun nests dotting key intersections, and Kuromorimine's tanks loomed in the distance, though sparse in number. What Red lacked in heavy armor, he made up for in speed and ingenuity.

Red ducked behind cover, signaling to his men to spread out and take positions. "Fury, get that Bazooka ready! We've got tanks up ahead!" he barked, spotting a Kuromorimine tank rumbling through the narrow streets. The crew was calm, too calm for what was about to happen.

Fury, a young but determined member of Red's company, nodded and rushed forward, hefting the Bazooka onto his shoulder. As he took aim at the enemy tank, Thompson and his squad laid down suppressing fire with their rifles and machine guns, drawing the attention of the tank crew.

"Hold... Hold..." Red's voice was steady, as he watched Fury's hands tremble slightly while keeping the target in sight.

With a sharp whoosh, the Bazooka fired, and the rocket streaked across the street. The Kuromorimine tank exploded in a burst of fire and debris, its turret flipping over as it was engulfed in flames. The airborne soldiers cheered, but Red quickly brought them back to focus.

"Stay sharp! There's more where that came from!" he shouted, moving up with his squad.

Inside the town, the enemy forces had begun to react. Kuromorimine's infantry was mobilizing, moving through alleyways and side streets to mount a counterattack. Uncle Sam's forces were entrenched further in, creating choke points and firing back with deadly precision. The Davy Crockett High airborne soldiers, however, had their orders and pressed forward with relentless energy.

"We need to take that church tower!" Red pointed toward a high vantage point that was being used by Kuromorimine snipers. "Gambit, cover me!" Red shouted, signaling Jean-Luc Dubois, the Lieutenant of Davy Crockett, to provide support.

Gambit, ever the gambler, grinned as he fired a smoke grenade into the air, creating a cloud of cover for Red and his squad to push forward. Red darted from cover to cover, his trusty M1911 in hand, barking orders at his men as they advanced up the narrow streets.

A hail of bullets met them as they neared the church, but Red was unfazed. "Grenades! Now!" he yelled. His men pulled the pins and hurled their grenades toward the entrenched positions, the explosions sending dirt and debris flying into the air.

Within moments, the squad had cleared the entrance, and Red led the charge into the church. "Thompson, take the stairs! Clear that sniper's nest!" he commanded, and without hesitation, Thompson and a few others sprinted up the staircase, rifles at the ready.

As they neared the top, gunfire erupted from above, but Thompson was quick. He dropped to the ground, narrowly dodging the sniper's bullet, and returned fire. A few precise shots later, the sniper slumped over, and the tower was theirs.

"Tower secured, Cap'n!" Thompson reported through the radio.

"Good job, Thompson. Hold the position!" Red responded, already planning the next move.

Suddenly, the sound of rumbling engines filled the air. Another wave of tanks appeared in the distance, coming from the direction of Uncle Sam's lines. This time, it was heavier, better armed, and ready to take back the town.

"Here they come!" Fury called out, spotting the incoming armor. Red's eyes narrowed as he quickly formulated a plan. "Hold your positions!" he ordered, as the airborne company dug in, preparing for the inevitable clash.

Just then, a familiar voice crackled over the radio. "Houston, this is Shadow. I've got eyes on those tanks. Give me the go, and we'll light 'em up."

"Do it, Shadow," Red replied with a grin, knowing Lieutenant Shadow had the perfect angle.

A few seconds later, anti-tank mines detonated along the main road, courtesy of Shadow and her boys. The enemy tanks that weren't destroyed by the explosions were left crippled and smoking, easy pickings for the Bazookas.

As the airborne soldiers pushed further into the town, the battle raged on. Red knew this fight wasn't over yet, but with every street they took, every position they held, they were one step closer to victory.

"Come on, boys! Let's finish this fight!" Red shouted,

As the airsoft battle raged across the small town, Hans, Vice Commander of Uncle Sam's forces, was growing increasingly frustrated. The Davy Crockett High airborne company, led by Captain Red Houston, was hitting them hard with anti-tank weapons and relentless infantry maneuvers. The echoes of airsoft gunfire filled the streets, a constant reminder of how fierce the fight had become.

Suddenly, a Tiger II tank rumbled up beside Hans's Tiger I. Erika Itsumi, Vice Commander of Kuromorimine Girls' Academy, popped out of her command hatch, her face stern as she looked at Hans.

"I'm not liking how these Yankees are moving," Erika said, her voice betraying a rare hint of frustration.

"Yeah, me neither. My guess is they're trying to take the town piece by piece," Hans replied, turning to her with a grim expression. "We need to push them out before they overrun us. How many tanks do you have left?"

Erika sighed, glancing toward the battle raging in the distance. "Not many. I only have a few Panthers left. We've taken some heavy hits."

Hans clenched his jaw. "Same here. I've got just a handful of my own tanks still operational. But if we coordinate, we can use what we have to force them out of this town."

Erika nodded, determination returning to her eyes. "Alright. Let's move. We'll need to strike hard and fast."

With that, Erika and Hans ducked back into their tanks, their engines roaring to life as they began to roll out, preparing for a coordinated counterattack.

Meanwhile, Red Houston, Lieutenant Shadow, and Thompson were huddled together behind cover, their backs against a half-ruined brick wall as airsoft rounds zipped past them. The airborne company was making progress, but they had encountered heavy resistance as Uncle Sam's forces began regrouping.

"Alright, we've gotta figure out how to take those tanks out before they turn this into a shooting gallery," Red said, glancing around the corner to see the advancing tanks in the distance.

Thompson, wiping the sweat from his brow, shook his head. "Damn, Cap'n. They've got a Tiger II and a Tiger I moving up together. That's a lot of armor for us to crack, even with our anti-tank weapons."

Shadow, ever calm under pressure, tapped Red on the shoulder. "We've got a couple more Bazookas stashed behind the church. If we can flank them, we might be able to take out their heavies before they know what hit them."

Red nodded, formulating a quick plan in his head. "Alright. Thompson, take half the squad and give 'em hell from the front. Keep 'em distracted. Shadow, you and I will swing around and hit them from the side with those Bazookas."

Thompson grinned, his cocky attitude never wavering. "You got it, Cap'n. We'll keep 'em busy. Make sure you boys bring the fireworks."

Red slapped him on the shoulder. "Count on it."

As Thompson gathered his squad and laid down suppressive fire, Red and Shadow sprinted through the alleyways, weaving between rubble and ruined buildings. They could hear the heavy clanks of Hans and Erika's tanks getting closer, the distinct growl of their engines echoing through the narrow streets.

Back in the heart of the battle, Thompson led his men in a fierce exchange of fire. Airsoft pellets flew through the air, bouncing off walls and armor as the two forces clashed.

"Come on, boys! Give 'em something to remember!" Thompson shouted, firing off his own airsoft rifle, the sound of rapid fire cutting through the chaos.

One of the airborne boys next to him, a young recruit named Miller, was panting as he reloaded. "Captain Houston's counting on us to keep these guys pinned down. We gotta hold!"

Thompson gave Miller a quick nod. "You're damn right he's counting on us! Now keep shooting!"

As the airborne soldiers continued their assault, Hans and Erika's tanks began to push forward, their massive treads grinding through the debris-strewn streets. The roar of their engines was almost deafening as they unleashed volleys of airsoft fire from their turrets, forcing Thompson's squad to duck back behind cover.

"They're pushing hard!" Thompson yelled over the gunfire. "Hold your ground, boys!"

Around the side of the town, Red and Shadow reached the stash of Bazookas. Red hefted one onto his shoulder and grinned at Shadow. "Let's make this count."

Shadow, ever the professional, checked her own Bazooka. "We'll only get one shot at this. You take the Tiger I, I'll handle the Tiger II."

Red nodded, adjusting his aim as they moved into position. From their vantage point, they could see the two massive tanks moving through the main street, their turrets turning toward Thompson's squad.

"Ready?" Red asked, his voice steady.

"On your mark," Shadow replied.

"Now!" Red barked, both of them firing their Bazookas at the same time.

The rockets streaked through the air, and in a split second, the street was filled with explosions. The Tiger I took a direct hit, its turret rocking as smoke poured from its engine. The Tiger II fared no better, its side armor breached by Shadow's perfectly placed shot.

"Direct hits!" Shadow called out, satisfaction in her voice.

As the two tanks ground to a halt, Red could hear Thompson's squad cheering from the other side of the street.

"Come on, Able, move up!" Red shouted, his voice commanding and urgent as the airborne company continued their relentless push forward. The disabled Tigers lay scattered across the battlefield, smoking ruins of their former might.

Suddenly, the hatch of Hans' Tiger I burst open, and the enraged Vice Commander of Uncle Sam's forces popped out. His furious expression was met by the cold barrel of an airsoft M1 Carbine rifle, aimed directly at him by one of Red's airborne boys.

"Gotcha," the airborne soldier said with a smirk, marking Hans out of the battle with a shot.

Erika, still safely inside her Tiger II, watched in shock as Hans was eliminated. Her eyes widened even further when she saw three airborne soldiers charge toward his tank, lobbing airsoft powder grenades inside. The powder exploded in a puff, marking the entire crew inside.

"Airsoft 20 mil!" one of the airborne boys shouted, pointing to an Uncle Sam-operated Flak 20mm gun that was set up just ahead.

"Take it out!" Red commanded, raising his M16A2 rifle and moving with his men toward the target.

But the gunners operating the 20mm Flak were no rookies. They quickly unleashed a barrage of airsoft fire, tearing through the airborne squad that had been on top of Hans' disabled Tiger I, marking them out of the battle in rapid succession.

Red gritted his teeth as he ducked behind cover, glancing at Shadow and Thompson. "We've gotta neutralize that gun, or we're sitting ducks."

Thompson popped out from behind a pile of rubble and fired a burst from his airsoft rifle. "Easier said than done, Cap'n. Those boys are dug in pretty tight!"

Shadow, ever calm under pressure, scanned the battlefield. "We need a distraction. I'll take a squad and draw their fire. You two flank them."

Red gave her a firm nod. "Be careful, Shadow."

With a quick salute, Shadow signaled a handful of airborne soldiers to follow her. As they sprinted out of cover, airsoft fire from the 20mm Flak gun rained down on them, but they zigzagged through the wreckage, skillfully evading the incoming shots.

"Go! Now!" Red shouted to Thompson, as the two of them dashed around the flank, moving in closer to the 20mm position.

Once they were within range, Red aimed his M16A2, firing a precise burst that marked one of the gunners. Thompson followed up, taking out the second gunner before they could react.

"20 mil's down!" Red called out, satisfied as the Flak gun fell silent.

But the battle wasn't over yet. On the other side of the battlefield, another group of airborne soldiers had climbed onto the top of the Tiger II. They had powder grenades in hand, ready to finish the job.

"Ready, boys?" one of the airborne soldiers grinned as they gathered around the command hatch of the massive tank. With a swift motion, they pulled the pins and tossed the grenades inside.

Boom!

A cloud of airsoft powder exploded from the hatch, marking the Tiger II crew and rendering the tank neutralized.

The airborne boys cheered as the remaining defenders from Uncle Sam's forces began to retreat. The battle had been won, and the airborne company stood victorious, having pushed through despite the heavy resistance.

Red, breathing heavily but grinning, stood tall among his men, his M16A2 still in hand. "That's how you do it, boys," he said proudly. "No one beats the airborne."

Thompson chuckled, leaning against a wall. "Damn straight. Those Uncle Sam boys put up a fight, though. I'll give 'em that."

Shadow rejoined them, her face calm but her eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Good work, everyone. We've secured the town. Let's regroup and prepare for the next move."