Chapter 1

Barstow, California

Friday October 19th, 2012

The winds of the desert echoed throughout the area. The moon had already sunk beneath the horizon, yet the sun had not yet awakened. Barstow was not a city one immediately thought of when thinking of California, yet it exemplified one of its most notable characteristics; the sweltering heat. Even in October, a ninety-degree day was not unusual in the slightest. Among the many homes coated in a fine layer of sand, one had a peculiarity. This modest home had a solitary window light, and within was a young teenage girl busily preparing for school. The oddity here was that Valarie Woodlin would still be fast asleep on any other day, only begrudgingly getting ready for class at the last possible moment.

Today was not a typical day.

For today was the final match of Japan's national Tankery tournament. Ooarai Girl's Academy and Kuromorimine Girl's Academy were about to wage battle. It would be tense! It would be action-packed! Ooarai would be fighting for its very survival! And Valarie is the only person in town who knows about it and gives a damn. Foreign tankery matches rarely got much attention outside their home country, if they got any at all. Valarie was already dressed in her school attire and, thanks to waking early enough, had managed to brush the rat's nest that was her hair. It was a rarity for Valarie to tame her hair as she seldom had the time to put care into it. Looking in her mirror, she gazed at her reflection. Standing at 5'8, she was nearly the height of it, with her black hair flowing just past her shoulders, and her skin pale. She didn't mind the fact that her summer tan had receded, and yet, in a way she did. Satisfied with her hair, she then opened her laptop and tapped away. Reaching a Japanese website and the foreign text one would expect, she let her browser translate it into something that, while not perfect, at least allowed her to get the gist of things

Ooarai v. Kuromorimine - 12 P.M.

12 P.M. for Japan. 7 P.M. for Valarie. She would have to get through the day, tempering her excitement. She peeked at her phone, checking the time.

5:55 A.M.

She still had some time to kill before the school bus arrived. She left her room and headed straight for the kitchen. From the window overlooking the sink, Valarie noticed the approaching rays of the rising sun. She didn't need to feel them, for in her bones, Valarie could already tell that today was going to be a hot one. Grabbing a slice of leftover pizza from the fridge, she plopped herself down on the couch and turned on the television. It was mostly to provide some background noise as she browsed her phone, only briefly interrupted by munching on her breakfast. Her phone then vibrated, as a notification appeared on her screen. A grin erupted on her face as she saw that her dad was calling her. It was promptly answered.

"Hey, dad!"

"Morning, sweetheart! You sound awfully awake."

"Yup. Having breakfast right now."

"Really? You woke early enough to have a meal? Never thought I'd see the day…"

"Real comedian aren't ya, dad? Anyway, where are you headed right now?"

"Huntsville. Just crossed into Alabama half an hour ago."

"Cool. Always good to hear your voice, dad. Love you lots!"

"Love you too. Have a good day!"

The call concluded. Valarie's dad was a trucker by trade, and the job demanded that he be on the road regularly. But whenever he was home, they made the most of this irregular free time. Hangouts. Walks. Trips. The occasional movie. Anything to spend time together. Her mother worked closer to home, having already left for work in the pitch black of the morning at a local welding shop. Welders and truckers normally made good money but that all depended on various factors, and for her parents, well, the cards weren't exactly in their favor. Their combined paychecks were only just enough to pay for their home and its associated necessities. Any surplus was put away for a rainy day, and it seemed that even in the desert, it rains more than Valarie's family would like. The aging family car was the most common culprit. The vehicle appeared to sense when the savings would get big enough, and demand an emergency repair. And when it wasn't the car, it was always something else. On the rare occasion when things held themselves together, the family could splurge a little, much like when they surprised Valarie with a smartphone the year prior and earlier this year, a laptop. Sure, each was the cheapest model available, but Valarie loved and cherished them, having given them both daily use and superb care ever since. She was far too aware that should either fail, a replacement might never arrive.

Finished with her breakfast, Valarie began paying attention to the television, which had just started playing the local news.

"...the President is on his way to Austin for a campaign stop. Now, news on the high seas. More environmentalist groups have backed the 'Mother Earth Initiative', in their condemnation of the wide use of school ships due to their impact on the world's oceans. ABC11 reporter James Taft spoke with the leader of a Los Angeles Chapter of the Initiative."

"These school ships," spoke a woman called Kasey Brennan, leader of the L.A. Initiative chapter, as a small bar of text informed Valarie. "belch out pollutants at a rate far worse than cruise ships. The 'ship' part is bad enough, but we also have to consider that these vessels host entire cities on them. Combined, it's an environmental nightmare."

"School ships are a tradition that goes back to the ancient Romans, and the concept was modernized by the British in the 19th century," reported James Taft. "Ms. Brennan has also spoken on how countries need to go back to the time where high schools and colleges were land-bound. This is James Taft, reporting live from Downtown L.A. Back to you."

The news segment was over, and the anchors moved on to the next topic. Valarie couldn't help but smirk. Her district was far too poor to have a school ship of their own, which in no way bothered her. Having never visited California's idyllic beaches, she was indifferent to the sea. But, with the idea of school ships becoming more and more controversial, she was at least interested to see where the debate was heading. Turning the television off, she glanced at the time

6:25 A.M.

It was time to get to the bus stop. Though the tankery match was more than nine hours away, the excitement on her face was already apparent and showed no signs of going away. Tankery was a sport that had totally captivated her, ever since she started to watch old matches on VHS tapes, and since then, she had devoured any information even remotely related to the sport. Books, articles, footage, play-by-play commentaries, interviews with tank crews and their members. If tanks were involved, she knew about it. Valarie was so hungry for knowledge on tankery that she even looked internationally to learn how other countries did it. That was how she learned about Japan's tankery scene, and of Ooarai's fight to exist. She was, like most people, a sucker for underdog stories. In Japan, Ooarai's match was the most prominent sports news in the country. Outside her borders...not so much. Miho Nishizumi, Ooarai's commander, had quickly become a sort of favorite for Valarie. Her strategy on the battlefield amazed her. The way she managed to get out of tight situations with ever more creative tactics sent Valarie over the moon. Ooarai's match against Pravda was one that would stick with her for a lifetime, and the end still gave her goosebumps whenever she thought about it.

A brisk walk later, and she was at the bus stop. The sun had breached the horizon, and as the light hit her skin, her prediction proved true; today would be hot. Sitting down on the bench, Valarie let herself zone out while waiting for the bus. A few minutes elapsed, but she was snapped back to reality by the sound of an engine filling the air.

But it wasn't the bus.

The noise of this mystery machine was clearly a diesel. Being the daughter of a trucker, Valarie was very familiar with diesel engines. But this particular one was...different. She couldn't quite put her finger on what vehicle this engine belonged to. The noise grew in volume as it got closer, but frustratingly, a wall existed between her and this vehicle, obscuring her view. She heard a new sound, the heavy creaking of metal.

"Is that what I think it is?" Valarie thought to herself. Her train of thought was soon halted, however, as the loud honk of the bus jolted her to attention, and she quickly boarded.

"Daydreaming, are we?" teased the bus driver.

"Ah...yes, I was. Good morning." Valarie blushed and felt the heat in her cheeks.

"Mornin' Val. Nice change of pace not seeing you running in my rearview mirror, arms wavin' trying to flag me down."

"Today just seems like a good day for firsts."

"True that! Take your seat, please."

Valarie took her preferred spot at the rear of the bus. As it drove on, her mind returned to the vehicle she had heard. There was a certain familiarity to it, reminding her of her tankery tapes. But would a tank really be here? She found it hard to believe. If a tank was here, surely, she would've noticed. At least, that is what she thought. If only that wall wasn't there…

The bus made another stop, and a fresh group of students boarded. Valarie scanned the crowd and locked eyes with another girl, a brunette that she would recognize anywhere; her best friend was here. The brunette headed straight toward Valarie and sat beside her.

"Hey...Wow! You actually look like someone who puts effort in themselves!" Emma Gray said in a teasing tone. The pair first met in the second grade and had been inseparable ever since. And as seemed to be customary for old friends, a certain amount of teasing was to be expected. At 5'4, Emma was considerably shorter than Valarie, which had become one of the main weapons in Valarie's arsenal.

"Guess that makes two comedians…" Valarie's blush, which had just begun to fade, now came back with a vengeance.

"So, is that tank match you keep talking about happening today? I tried finding some info on it, but I got nothing."

"It is!" Valarie answered, a bit louder than she had planned in her excitement.

While Emma was looking forward to the match and did have some interest in tankery, her feelings toward the sport were utterly dwarfed by Valarie's. For nearly the entirety of their friendship, Valarie had spoken endlessly about tankery. This had never perturbed Emma however, as she loved the enthusiasm in Valarie's words. The days where Valarie passionately discussed at length some tankery topic were her favorites. And, as her best friend talked about tankery daily, every day was a favorite. Valarie's elation for this mechanized sport was infectious, and she was more than happy to contract it.

"I'll send you a link to watch. I found a good streaming site," Valarie replied.

"Cool. Cool. What time?"

"7 P.M our time."

"Not too late...how long will the match be?

"Well, it can be over like that," Valarie snapped her fingers. "Or, it can be a long, drawn-out battle that lasts well into the night."

Emma reclined in her seat as she nodded. "Good thing it's Friday then."

The two girls rambled on, covering a whole host of different topics. Once the bus arrived at school, and all of the passengers disembarked, the pair remained close as they walked onto campus. They shared a quick embrace and went to their respective classes. Not sharing the same schedule, they wouldn't reunite until lunch. Valarie's first class of the day was history and, while typically her favorite subject, today she just couldn't focus. With the tankery match and the mystery vehicle, her mind was much too occupied. It was going to be a long day; she could feel it. Waiting outside the classroom, students arrived piecemeal and soon congregated around the door. With the arrival of the teacher, the day could finally start in earnest. Looking at the hands on the clock that seemed to move at a fraction of a snail's pace, each 45-minute period felt like a 45-hour endeavor, with no end in sight. But then came chemistry, where time truly seemed to freeze at a standstill.

Valarie. Loathed. Chemistry.

Broadly, science was something that Valarie did okay in. With sufficient studying, she'd pass like any other subject. But chemistry was another beast entirely. She just couldn't grasp it, even with the words of her chemistry teacher echoing in her mind.

"The subject is tough, but when you get that 'A-ha!' moment, it gets clear."

"Where's my damn 'A-Ha!' moment?!" Valarie screamed internally.

The fact that she had accidentally torched herself with a Bunsen burner might have contributed to her hatred. Whatever the case may be, the class was just soul-sucking. The teacher was friendly at least, which was a small Silver lining. At the beginning of the class, a worksheet was passed out, and the room was filled with the noise of pen and pencil hitting paper. Valarie's pencil alone remained motionless. Already used to this feeling of incompetence, she had mastered the ability to feign work in order to not attract attention. Eventually, lunch arrived, and time finally normalized. The courtyard was jam-packed, and Valarie walked around aimlessly, before resting in a relatively isolated spot underneath a tree, its shadow giving some much-needed respite from the warm sun. Not a particularly hungry person, her lunch was merely composed of a small bag of chips along with some water. Soon enough, Emma appeared right behind.

"Hiya. How was chem?" she greeted, cheerful as always.

"Oh, you know. Depressing."

"So...you think you're gonna—"

"Pass?" Valarie interrupted. A scornful chuckle escaped from her mouth. "Doubtful." She put her hands on her face. "I'm gonna repeat it next year. Calling it now."

Emma sympathetically rubbed Valarie's shoulders. "Oh, you'll pass. I'll help you."

Her words were comforting, but deep inside a crevice in Valarie's mind, self-doubt remained entrenched. For now, however, she had more pressing things to tend to. Lunch has always consisted of the two, and even though the courtyard was a cacophonous environment of students talking, laughing, and yelling, Valarie and Emma were in their own world as they ate and chatted together. Then, from behind her, Valarie could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned and saw that it wasn't a student coming towards them, but the vice-principal, Martin Redwood. Redwood was a middle-aged man, who surely considered himself blessed since he, unlike some men of his age, was not beset by the woe that was male pattern baldness. Though not as vibrant as it probably was in his youth, his mahogany-colored hair was as healthy as ever, even if some strands of gray were apparent. A pair of professional-looking glasses that perfectly suited him rested on his face, completing the picture. He was a professional through and through, but above all, he was dedicated to the students of Mojave Rose High School. A dedication that the students answered with a respect usually uncommon between student and principal.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Valarie said sarcastically

Redwood chuckled. "No, you ain't in trouble. Though I am happy to find you. I have some news to share with you."

The girls looked at each other, with a mixture of confusion and eagerness.

"Go on," Valarie said.

"Alright, check this out. Since the American Tankery Tournament is a few months away, the state of California is giving millions in grants to districts to build up their teams."

"Wow!"

"And our district got one!"

Valarie was bubbling with excitement. She couldn't believe this was happening.

"Our school was allocated enough funding for a team." Redwood smiled as he turned toward Valarie, who looked like she was about to explode. "And since it's no secret that you're a huge tankery fan..." He could see her fingers twitch. He had indeed approached the right girl. "This school would be happy to have you as our first member of the new tankery Team!"

Valarie leapt from the ground she sat on and gave Redwood a huge hug. "Ohmygod! ThankyouThankyouThankyou!" She turned toward Emma and reached out a hand. "Join me!" she said as if tempting her for some nefarious purpose.

The excitement in the air, combined with her best friend's joy, had now taken hold of Emma as well. "I will, obviously!

Redwood wrote on his clipboard. "Alright...Valarie Woodlin and...Emma Gray. Okay, girls. This means a lot."

The girls clasped hands and giggled uncontrollably.

"Now, ladies," Redwood said in a hushed tone. "This here was an informal announcement. Next Monday is when the school will be informed. So don't go talking to people about it just yet. Admin wants the weekend to get things finalized."

"You got it," the girls replied in unison.

"Thanks, guys! See you Monday!"

Redwood left, and the girls looked at each other in disbelief.

"Is this really happening?" Valarie inquired.

"It is!" Emma exclaimed. "But. Just to be sure..."

Emma pinched Valarie right on her thigh, who yelped.

"OkayOkay! I'm not dreaming," said Valarie laughingly.

The pair sat back down, and Emma noticed how Valarie's smile transformed into something more serious. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Where do we get tanks?"

"Isn't there a dealership we can go to?"

"There is, and the tanks there are the top of the line. Spotless. Triple-checked for mechanical problems and comes fueled and fully loaded. In other words, hopelessly expensive."

"Oh," said Emma in a despondent tone.

Valarie scratched her chin. "Hell, have you ever seen a tank in this town?"

Emma shook her head.

"Well. I guess we gotta turn over every stone until we find some then," Valarie went on.

"When we organize the Tankery team, we'll have loads of help!" said Emma cheerfully.

The two smiled as a bell then pierced the air, announcing to all outside that lunch was over. They exchanged a hug, and went to their classes. For the remainder of the school day, Valarie managed to power through, fueled by fresh excitement at the prospect of a local tankery team for her to join. As soon as the dismissal bell sounded, she bolted out of her class and was in a near sprint toward the front of the campus. She approached the bike racks and knelt in front of a bike, beginning to fiddle with the lock.

"Watcha doing," spoke a familiar voice.

"Trying to get my bike unlocked."

Though normally taking the bus to and from school, on days Valarie slept through her alarm and missed the bus, her bike was the backup plan. The plan was executed earlier in the week when Valarie, not even sleeping through the alarm but flat-out forgetting the set the damn thing, soon awoke, her eyes flying open when she saw that it was 6:43 A.M. She jumped from bed, threw on the first set of clothes she saw, snatched her bag, and went for her bike. She pedaled like she was racing in the Tour De France, her legs screaming in agony as she reached school that day with a minute to spare.

Emma watched inquisitively. "Does that mean you're not going on the bus?"

"No, sorry. If I leave my bike over the weekend, it'll get taken away."

"Alright, I'll text ya later."

Emma left and got in line to board her bus. In the time it took for the line to progress and speed away, Valarie was still trying to unlock her bike. Eventually, she remembered the combination, and the lock was disengaged. Now freed from the rack, she mounted her bike and rode off. Dodging students and other obstacles, she pedaled hard for home, biking on roads and passing houses as she had done hundreds of times before. The ride home was set to be another routine ride. Another memory that would fade away and be entirely forgotten. But with many things this day, what seemed to become routine and ordinary ended up anything but.

She heard the engine from before again and pushed the brake hard to grind her bike to a halt. It didn't sound too far away, perhaps just around the corner. Valarie resumed pedaling and made the turn, and as she did, the noise grew louder, more powerful, which only made her pedal faster in turn until she saw an empty plot of land at the end of the street. That must be where it is. Her excitement grew, and she quickened her pace even further. When she reached the plot, she turned and began cycling alongside it, scanning the site for the origin of the sound until she found it, her eyes latching on and widening, as her earlier hunch proved to be correct

It was a tank.

And it was one hell of a tank. Valarie, with her knowledge of tanks, immediately identified it as an IS-3 Soviet heavy tank. She was astounded to see such a vehicle here, even more to see it working. The Soviet machine drove around the patch of land like it was in a parade, its massive 122mm D-2-5T elevated upward as if it was giving a salute to its mother country. The roadwheels delightfully squeaked as they moved, coated in dirt, their sound like music to Valarie's ears. She watched as the tank then made a turn, its front facing her. That was when she laid her eyes upon the distinctive pike armor that made the IS-3 not only famous but a terror to the west when it was first introduced all those decades ago when the Cold War crawled out of the ashes of the most calamitous event that ever blighted humanity. Tanks from an era once used to maim and murder, now reused for more peaceful means in the form of a sport. That IS-3 will be a fantastic first tank for the team, she thought. With its thick angled armor, great rounded turret, and a deafening gun that tore the atmosphere when it fired, it was sure to be useful on the field. She couldn't stop looking at it, entranced, as she imagined battles in her mind. Seeing the Soviet beast taking all forms of abuse, picturing it turning its turret, laying its gun on target, and with the pull of the trigger—

Whack!

Valarie suddenly found herself on the ground, her face in pain. While gazing in awe at the tank, she had continued biking, and without watching where she was going, she collided headfirst into a road sign. The impact, or more likely, the sight of her falling off her bike made a few heads pop out of the IS-3, looking her way. The tank came to a halt, and one of the crew dismounted and walked toward her.

"Oh, man! Are you okay?" asked a male voice. He gave Valarie an ice pack.

"Thank you."

She accepted the ice pack and placed it on the part of her face that hurt. The pain was throbbing, and the ice provided comforting relief as she pressed it firmly against her face for a minute or so, before standing back up. The person who helped here was taller than she was, probably standing around six feet. The guy was of Hispanic descent, though he was of lighter complexion. His hair was black, and neither short nor terribly long. Enough for him to justify running his fingers through it from time to time.

"What's your name?" asked Valarie.

"I'm Ray. You're Valarie, right?

"How…"

"We go to the same school. Also, it's written on your bag."

That makes three comedians in one day. Must be some kind of record, Valarie thought, vaguely remembering seeing Ray walking about on campus. The school wasn't the biggest, so it wasn't impossible to recognize faces. "What grade are you in?"

"I'm a junior," answered Ray.

"Okay, Ray the Junior. Riddle me this. Where the hell did you get a working IS-3?"

Ray sported a proud smile. He then pointed to a grove of trees. "There's a garage hiding in those trees over there. The owner said that it was there when he moved in about a decade ago, and he just doesn't want to bother with it. So he let my friends and I tinker with it. "

Valarie couldn't believe her luck. An IS-3, right here in Barstow. How the thing ever ended up abandoned in some guy's garage was beyond her.

"As it turns out," Ray continued. "Despite how it looked, it wasn't totally beyond repair. We spent the summer doing repairs, and for the last few weeks we enjoyed the fruits of our labor by taking the thing out on joy rides."

"Can I have a closer look?" asked Valarie, suddenly getting a bit shy.

"Of course!"

Ray led Valarie to the tank, and when she was actually in front of the machine, Valarie couldn't help but nerd out. An actual, honest-to-god, Soviet IS-3 was right there before her. The iconic shade of green painted on Soviet tanks looked far better in person than in pictures. She placed her hands on the steel and found it to be pleasantly warm. She then ran a hand across other aspects of the vehicle as well, from the welds to the tank's notable pike. Its sheer size made Valarie feel tiny. Even Ray's six-foot-tall stature was made diminutive when next to the IS-3.

"Is everything working?" she finally asked.

"Well, it can move, obviously. The turret rotates, the cannon responds to inputs, and the radio works...we think. It can turn on, but all we hear is static. We need like a manual for that thing or something."

"Uh-huh," Valarie hummed. She took another glance at the tank. Mainly it's gun. "Ever fired it?

Ray was taken aback. "Um...no? Sounds like a great way to get the cops on us. Besides, we don't have any rounds."

"So it's been disarmed..."

"Well, not necessarily. The machine guns have been removed, with only their mounts remaining. The cannon breech was absolutely coated with dirt and dust, but a good clean made it look good as new. Ammo aside, this tank is functional."

Valarie continued to admire the tank. These boys sure did a good job, she thought.

"Any of you have roles?"

Ray had an embarrassed expression. He placed his hands inside his pockets. "Well...ahem... I'm the commander, Ryan over there is the gunner, Cesar loads the non-existent shells, and Jeremy hauls us around."

Valarie smiled. It was cute, she thought, that the boys had assigned roles for themselves like… like they were in tankery. An idea manifested within her that screamed to get out and be heard by the world.

"So!" she exclaimed, her excitement near uncontrollable. "What do you guys think about tankery?"

The boys expressed voices of approval. They, too, had some enthusiasm for the sport.

"We're all fans," Ray chimed in, before letting out a solemn sigh. "Though it seems that's all we're gonna be, seeing as there are no tankery teams anywhere close here." They all looked at the ground, downcast.

"That's where you're wrong!" she said dramatically.

The boys looked back up in equal doses of confusion and excitement, as Valarie gestured them closer. "Okay, in a few months, the national tankery tournament will start. California is giving schools money to get their teams in order. Our school got some money for a team."

Ray and the others were overjoyed and broke out in high-fives. During the whole summer, the dream they held as they worked on the tank, at times only talked about half-seriously, was now quickly becoming a reality. If they hadn't been aware of Valarie's reputation at school of being a massive tankery fan, they would've never believed her. Especially not after seeing her lose a fight against a street sign. But they could tell; the words she said to them were the truth, the real deal.

"Monday is when the school will make an official announcement. I hope you guys will join," she explained further.

"Hell yeah, we will! We can't pass this up!" exclaimed Ryan, eagerly rubbing his hands together.

Jeremy, however, had a concern.

"Just a question," he asked, getting Valarie's attention. "Tankery is a sport that is marketed to girls, right?"

She nodded.

"I'm worried about how we'll be received," Jeremy shared. "'Cause we all know that the people who will join the school's team will all be girls. I don't wanna be like the guy who starts doing ballet just to meet girls..."

Valarie never thought of that. Sure, whenever she read or watched promotional material for tankery, it was exclusively women who were shown. It would always mention how women who participate in the sport will be empowered and be better individuals as a result. Male tankery crews? Surely, they existed somewhere... She just so happened to never see one in all the years she'd been a fan. That had to just be a coincidence. Right?

"Well," she said, all drawn out. "Hopefully, there won't be any issues. Besides, you have a tank. That oughta convince people."

"It better," Valarie said internally.

She glanced at the sun. It was already moving downward and on its way to the horizon. "Anywho, it's time for me to head home. See you guys Monday!"

Valarie gave a quick wave, sprinted back to her bike, and peddled away, the boys waving goodbye as she looked back. It was an effort to keep steady while holding the ice pack Ray had given her, and though there were a few close calls, she made it back home. In the driveway, she spotted her mom's car, letting her know she was home. Valarie stowed her bike in front of the home and walked over to the rear-view mirror of the vehicle to check on her face. Now was the first time she actually saw the noticeable bruise with a deep purple color, but at least the pain was dissipating. With nothing else that she could do about it, she entered the house.

Once inside, she heard the murmur of the television. Her mom was on the couch, dozing off, still in her welder's smock. The sound of her daughter shutting the door awoke her.

"Hey honey," she said groggily. "How was—Woah, what happened to your face?!"

Her mother stood up instantly and quickly began to look at Valarie's face.

"Um... I fell off my bike, mom. It's not a huge deal".

Her mother continued to scrutinize the injury, gently touching Valarie's face with her hands.

"I think you're right. Just a bruise. A meal and some rest will patch you up. Dinner'll be ready in half an hour."

Just before she walked away, Valarie's mother noticed the ice pack.

"Where'd ya get that from?" she questioned.

"Oh, a friend from school saw me fall so he gave it to me."

"Awfully nice of him. Of course, that means we'll have to give that boy a gift of thanks."

"Yes, mom."

Valarie went to her room as her mom got dinner ready. Putting her stuff on the floor, she collapsed onto the bed.

"What a day," she said quietly. "And to think... it's not even over yet."

She checked the time.

3:17 P.M

The match was still more than three hours away. She whipped out her phone and texted Emma, seeing as there was news to share.

"Found a tank already w/crew lol." she typed.

A minute later, her phone buzzed—a response.

"Seriously? Already? Wow!" Emma texted back. "Redwood will be happy."

"Yup. Off to a great start. Chat w/you when the match starts."

Valarie put away her phone and fell backward onto the bed, resting for a moment. The tankery match alone made today special, but now, she had gone from a passionate fan to a dedicated participant. For the first time in her life, she was looking forward to Monday. Today was indeed a good day for firsts.

"Val! Dinner!" her mom called.

Dinner was simple, nothing fancier than some pasta with the classic tomato sauce, but it was filling nonetheless. As Valarie and her mom ate their meal, the two shared stories from the day they had each had.

"So, there is something new happening at school," Valarie said

"Do share," her mom said

"The school is starting a tankery team, and I signed up for it!"

Valarie's mother got excited. "That's great! Getting into a sport will look good on college applications, not to mention for scholarships! Tankery is a helluva commitment and involves immense dedication. Are you ready to give it your all?"

"Yesh!" Valarie responded, mouth full of pasta.

"I know you'll do great. At the very least, you'll have fun," Her mother answered with a proud smile.

Mother and daughter finished their meal and hung out in the living room, watching T.V. As the sky grew darker, Valarie's mother would drift asleep. Valarie, too, felt her exhaustion start to take its toll, though she fought against it. She couldn't let herself sleep. She'd risk missing the match if she did, and would absolutely hate herself for it. After two hours of watching T.V, the pair retired to their respective rooms.

6:30 P.M

In her room, Valarie made herself comfortable. Off with her school clothes, she put on a simple t-shirt and some gray sweatpants. She situated her laptop on one of her pillows next to her. She turned off the lights and laid in bed on her side. Only the glow of the computer screen was visible in her dark room. She navigated online to the site that would stream the match. The stream was entirely in Japanese, but she was already well used to this, having experimented excessively so that she knew which buttons to click. Watching the stream flicker to life, two women in suits appeared on screen, talking against a backdrop of video footage from some other matches. Even if Valarie didn't understand much of what was being said, she knew that it was a pre-game commentary.

6:50 P.M

Valarie saw on stream both groups of tanks that belonged to Ooarai and Kuromorimine in their starting positions. She spotted the Panzer IV in Mark H. specifications, Miho Nishizumi's machine. The girl she admired so much. She had seen it before, but it never stopped being breathtaking. Her phone vibrated, another text from Emma.

"Don't know what's going on, but it's so cool!" she said.

Valarie grinned. Emma can be real' adorable at times. As soon as 8 P.M rolled around, the match began. All the vehicles on-screen drove off. The contrast between the teams couldn't be more clear. Ooarai's tanks were a mishmash of armored vehicles from various nations, in a multitude of colors. Kuromorimine's machines, on the other hand, were exclusively German, and all camouflaged in identical patterns. Kuromorimine has fielded heavier tanks and tank destroyers, for they had expected to face off against Pravda. Though, Ooarai's stunning upsets had put them at a disadvantage that they weren't even aware of. Regardless of the circumstances, though, the match was just as tense as Valarie hoped it would be. Later on, when the Maus made its grand appearance, Valarie had to stop herself from screaming by stuffing a pillow into her face. She was surprised to see the super-heavy tank, just as much as Ooarai had to be.

"You seeing this?" she texted Emma.

"Unreal...so huge." was her reply.

The Maus eliminated two of Ooarai's vehicles in quick succession mercilessly. The girls watched as Ooarai fired round after round into the behemoth and saw it shrug off each hit as if it was nothing. They thought this was it, where the upsets would end. But the surprises just kept coming. Ooarai maneuvered their tanks into a more open area as the Maus drove out of the alley. At one end of the street was Ooarai, and the steel giant turned to face them. The group of tanks moved forward, with the Hetzer leading them. The small tank destroyer accelerated to top speed, heading straight toward the Maus, and with a loud bang, it smashed into the front of the behemoth, lifting the front of the super-heavy tank into the air because of its sloped armor. On the Maus' right, two tanks appeared and shot their cannons in tandem with their machine guns, catching the attention of their foe. The Maus rotated its massive turret toward them, firing a giant round off, but the more nimble vehicles avoided being knocked out. A Type-89 that was following the Hetzer then used the tank destroyer as a ramp and drove onto the Maus and wedged itself next to the super-heavy tank's turret. Immobilized, the Maus was vulnerable. Miho's Panzer IV drove along a nearby embankment and positioned her tank above the Maus, where they planted a shell in the rear of the vehicle, disabling the steel monster.

David had beaten Goliath.

Valarie was utterly amazed by what she had just witnessed. Her phone was going insane as Emma spammed the word 'Woah' to her a dozen and more times. Even though the clock had almost turned over to Saturday, the girls didn't feel a shred of exhaustion. They feverishly watched as their minds raced, attempting to figure out how the match could end. What they weren't expecting was that the real exhilarating part was yet to come. Midnight was fast approaching, and the match had reached a critical point. In an abandoned apartment complex stood two tanks. At one corner was Miho Nishizumi's Panzer IV. Mere meters away, across from her, was perhaps the most legendary tank in the world, a Tiger I, commanded by a girl just as legendary: Miho's sister, Maho Nishizumi. Two different styles of tankery were about to be put to the ultimate test. The two commanders dueled each other, with their respective machines moving at great speeds and precision.

Each shot barely missed their intended target, with strategic breaking saving Miho's tank from being eliminated by the thinnest of margins. But time was not a luxury Ooarai had, as the rest of Kuromorimine was furiously attempting to break through to assist their commander. Ooarai's Porsche Tiger was holding them off, but only barely. It was inevitable that they would get through, and when they did, Ooarai's defeat would be unavoidable. Miho would need to make a move and do it fast. The tanks returned to the square where they started this fight earlier. The Panzer IV then raced toward the Tiger and dodged a shot at the last possible moment. Then, it accelerated and drifted in a way Valarie thought tanks simply couldn't move. Sparks emanated from the tracks as the Panzer IV turned, and the strain proved to be too much. They snapped, but the momentum continued to propel the tank as it swung around the rear of the Tiger. Each machine now had their guns loaded and pointed right at the other when, simultaneously, they fired, and a plume of smoke covered the vehicles.

Valarie could only watch, mouth agape.

After what seemed like an eternity, the smoke cleared. Kuromorimine's tanks were just around the corner. As the two tanks became visible, it was apparent that both were damaged. The Panzer IV had one of its side-skirts totally torn off. The Tiger's rear compartment was destroyed, a white flag flapping in the wind from its turret. Kuromorimine's flag tank was eliminated, and Ooarai had won Japan's Tankery tournament.

Throughout this climatic spectacle, Valarie had scarcely breathed. Never, in all of the tankery matches she had watched, had a match been this intense. Her expectations had not only been met, but smashed beyond recognition. Valarie looked at her phone and saw that Emma, too, was sharing her emotions.

"No movie can top this." Emma typed.

"Agreed. And soon we'll be doing that too. Can you believe that?"

It was 1 A.M, and now Saturday had begun. The girls, now thoroughly entertained, bid each other goodnight. Yet, as Emma went to sleep, Valarie stayed up for a few more minutes. She turned on the lamp on her nightstand, and opened the drawer. Inside was a collection of notebooks, of which she picked up the one on top. The pages of the notebook were filled with charts and maps of the local area. She used this notebook to pretend that she was a tankery commander, brainstorming strategy, each page was filled with exquisite detail. As she combed through dozens of pages of make-believe, she made it to a blank page. She grabbed a pencil and wrote on the first line,

Mojave Rose High School Tankery Team

She didn't have to pretend anymore.