So, for anyone who has managed to reach chapter 2, thank you for all your interest and even support. I give a shoutout to The Writing Tankers for being the very first to review my latest project. I hope that this one will be officially and fully finished.

On a side note, I keep the year "20XX," because I am not sure whether to put the year as 2017, because it's the reign of Donald Trump in the US. He is a very polarizing figure, so I intend to leave it blank for now. If you guys want me to put it as 2017 or have other advice, please review! Thank you!


Chapter 2: The Encounter

June 22, 20XX

1:00PM Saturday, Japan Standard Time

Ooarai Girls High School carrier

"Miho Nishizumi," Anzu stared at her. "What will you do next? Or more precisely, what will you be next?"

Miho blinked at the question. Rarely had her president give out rhetorical questions before, but she knew that it was no accident if her president used them.

"It's no accident that I am asking you," she said. "Or all of you."

Miho stood in the middle of a line of five girls, all tense before the seat of the President of the entire school: their school. The Ooarai Girls High School was an obscure school that became (in)famous for winning the latest nationwide Senshado championship, and later won the right to stay by winning a seemingly impossible match against the Selection University team. Now, the Ooarai school carrier has accumulated an impressive amount of wealth, funded by a variety of companies and organizations that were banking on its success. Still, the carrier was still quite small, including the Council room. Yet it felt so big, because of Anzu's presence.

"We are here today," Anzu said, standing up to see the girls better. "To inform you something special . . ."

The whole room was silent.

Miho Nishizumi wondered what was going on. She knew that Anzu was proud of her, but the meeting was unexpected, especially on a Saturday. Although off from school, Anzu and her Student Council had to do paperwork as usual, and Miho and her friends were enjoying their days off when the Council "forced" them to come.

"Why did you force us to come?" wailed a ginger-haired girl, her slightly wavy hair slightly messed up. She was standing immediately to the right of Miho. "I was brushing my hair, and had no time to fix it!"

"Brush it now, then," a drowsy girl with long, black hair yawned next to her. She was in the far right of the line. "And there are no boys here, you know."

"Mako!" wailed Saori. "Don't remind me!"

"Maybe later?" inquired a tall, elegant girl, who was on the left side of Miho. "Saori, this is the Council room, you know?"

"Not you too, Hana!" Saori moaned. Everybody else giggled.

"Well," a girl with curly hair on the far left said. She did not look very nervous, but fidgeted slightly. "It's the Student Council in front of us. Whatever will happen, we'll stick together like a team! Right, Nishizumi-dono?"

"Oh! Yes, Yukari-chan," answered Miho. "So, President, why did-"

Anzu waved her off. "Just call me Anzu," she said. "You saved our school and all. Don't treat me as superior, you know?" She smirked, which confused Miho.

"So," Anzu began her talk. "Why did I invite you all here? Any ideas?"

Momo stood on the right side of the desk, rolling her eyes. Yuzu, standing on the left, fidgeted. Their reaction only upped the tension of the room.

Miho stood still, trying to understand what was going on. Saori squirmed, not wanting to stand forever. Hana calmly stood tall. Yukari played with her fingers. Mako, however, was leaning, as if about to sleep, her eyes closed.

Silence. Then . . .

"OK!" Anzu said out loud. Miho, Saori, and Yukari jumped, while Hana stood still. Mako, however, stopped leaning and opened her eyes to look at Anzu.

"Now," Anzu replied. "You are the heroes, or the heroines, of our school, saving us not once, but twice, from permanent closure! You all have our thanks!"

The five girls looked at each other, as if communicating via telepathy. Miho then cleared her throat to speak.

"N-no," she replied. "We all worked together to keep the school open. Presi-I mean, Anzu-chan."

"Just call me Anzu," Anzu replied. "No need to be formal here, you know!"

"Aren't we going off topic?" Momo budged in, impatient at her president's laid-back talk.

"What about the papers?" Yuzu said, placing the five sheets on the desk.

"Oh yes!" Anzu said. "I forgot them!"

"You did?" Momo moaned, her right hand in a face palm. The five girls in front were more confused than ever before.

"So!" Anzu cleared her throat. "This is the real reason why I have brought you all here."

In a friendly manner, Anzu slammed her right hand down on the five pieces of paper on her desk. After a moment of silence, Miho stepped closer to look. The other four then followed suit, and all of them stared down at the papers.

"Huh?" all five of them reacted.

Each of the five sheets was a kind of chart, or a profile sheet. In each sheet, they saw their names, their dates of birth, and all kinds of personal details, ranging from weight ("I hate to see that," mumbled Saori) to blood type ("AB," mumbled Mako). Their face profiles were also on them as well. However, all of them noticed something odd about them.

"Anzu," said Miho. "What are these seals?"

She pointed at a mysterious seal that looked like a stamp. All five sheets had them, but they were all very ornate and gilded.

"Isn't that gold?" Hana asked.

"It is," answered Anzu.

"What?"

Hana gasped, covering her mouth. Miho stood still, eyes wide open. Saori and Yukari stepped back in shock. Mako just stared at the papers.

"What's special about seals made from gold?" asked Mako. "They're just colored gold."

"They are actually made of gold," Momo retorted. Mako's eyes slowly opened in shock.

"Not just gold," said Anzu. "We decided to research into them, while waiting for you all to come. It turns out that they are not just seals."

"Aren't these from America?" asked Yukari. "All of them have some kind of an image of an eagle."

"Correct," said Anzu. "We contacted the Saunders, and Kay answered us. She was surprised that we had such documents. She said that these seals are some kind of a 'secret code' that doubles as an 'all-access' pass to the US."

"What?" Saori and Yukari yelled. Miho and Hana stood still, thinking about the situation. Mako just stared, her eyes now wide open.

"In other words," Anzu said. "Somehow, your actions were so impressive even the US government somehow got interested in you. A federal body of some sort (maybe secret?) decided to deliver these special documents, in hopes that you all will visit their nation."

"And why?" asked Yukari.

"I guess it's to improve relations," said Anzu. "Kay explained to me the documents, and why they are so important."

"How so?" asked Miho.

"Get ready," Anzu stretched. "For a long talk."

Momo cleared her throat, and directed the others to look at her. She took out a pointer to direct their attention to a white projection screen. On it, they saw the picture of Japan and the US.

"You all know about Senshado," said Momo. "It is one of the main arts of Japan. You all know the details, so I am not going into them much. However, in the US, a similar type of arts exists. Or existed. Known as Tankery, it was quite popular in the 1990's and even into the early 2000's."

"Tankery?" asked Saori.

"It's the American term for Senshado!" answered Yukari. "Right, Nishizumi-dono?"

"R-right!" Miho replied, sounding a little flustered. "In the US, I heard that it was a popular sport for a long time, perhaps even longer than that of Japan."

"What?" cried out Yukari. "But that sounds cool! I knew that both nations had Senshado, but I never guessed that the American one was older!"

"However," Momo continued, clearing her throat. "By the late 2000's, many Americans turned against it, because they believed that the use of tanks was not 'appropriate' for the mental health of the young teens in the US. To make matters worse, a single terrorist, with some ties to al-Qaeda or related organization, hijacked a single Tankery tank, and attempted to go on a rampage."

"The California incident," mumbled Yukari. "That happened somewhere in 2005 or so. It was ridiculous . . ."

"You know that?" asked Saori.

"She did tell me before," said Hana. "One of the worst sports scandals ever, I heard."

"Yup," Yukari sighed. "That crazy guy almost killed innocent people with a Tankery tank!"

"Fortunately, the guy was stopped, but that was the last straw," Momo explained, shaking her head in agreement. "Now, the majority of the Americans believed that the art of Tankery was not only 'unfit' for America, but also 'dangerous.' They believed that the use of tanks as sports could lead to catastrophes and all kinds of crazy things."

"But don't they have laws legalizing firearms?" asked Mako. "Aren't tanks just over-sized guns? What makes tanks illegal, but firearms legal?"

Everybody stared at her. They all thought the same thing.

Momo nodded, but shrugged. "It's America, you know," she replied. "They have crazy laws back there."

"But let's get to the point," said Yuzu. She brought out a black box, and opened it. The five girls gasped, as they saw five golden badges.

"These," said Anzu, pointing at them. "Are the true seals. Badges of Tankery. The seals on the papers are based on these."

"Why for us?" asked Saori. "And where did you find them?"

"Apparently," said Anzu. "Not all Americans were against the abolishment of Tankery, and wanted to restore it. Long story short, most Americans voted to abolish the sport in a recent referendum. Then, after seeing the 'JJ' win against impossible odds, a sizable minority successfully petitioned the US federal government to reconsider bringing back the sport."

"The JJ?" all five girls asked.

"The Joan of Japan," Anzu explained. "Named after a famous amazon who helped France to win against the Britain, the Joan of Japan led her school to impossible victory. She's right in front of you all."

Silence. Saori and Mako slowly turned to their left, while Yukari and Hana slowly turned to their right. All of them gasped at her.

"M-me?" Miho gasped. She fidgeted, feeling embarrassed with all the spotlight upon her. "W-why me?"

"Somebody tried to call you 'Legend,'" said Anzu. "But on the Internet, somebody came up with 'JJ,' or the 'Joan of Japan.' Apparently, many people found that catchy, and it became quite a popular meme."

"In fact," said Yuzu. "On my Friendbook and Twammer accounts, that has become quite popular, especially among my American friends."

"H-how am I JJ?" asked Miho.

"You, the JJ," declared Anzu, leaning closer. "Saved our school with your impossible tactics. You saved our school with a crazy drift back in the 63rd National High School Senshadou Tournament. You then saved our school with that crazy speed-boost move back in the battle against the Selection University. Apparently, the news of both reached the US, and many pro-Tankery people rallied together to create a massive petition. I heard that the petition got over five million signatures!"

"And all because of you," replied Yuzu, smiling.

"M-me?" Miho was still startled and flustered. It was one thing to be famous for being a member of the Nishizumi family, the oldest Senshadou family in Japan. It was another thing to be famous for the same thing in the US, the most powerful nation in the world.

"Many pro-Tankery advocates in the US," said Anzu. "Apparently liked you so much, even some of the government workers liked you. The President even personally signed these documents!"

They looked at the sheets, and all of them gasped.

"Wow!" Yukari roared. "To be recognized by the President of the United States of America? Awesome!"

Saori whistled in agreement. Hana and Mako just stared at their documents. Miho, however, fidgeted, because her document was the most different of them all.

"I understand," said Anzu. "Of all the documents, yours is the most special."

Miho stared at her document. The seal on it was so different from her friends'. Her friends' seals were apparently based on the Great Seal of the United States, the famous seal showing the American eagle, surrounded by a ring and holding an olive wreath and a couple of arrows in its talons. They were all golden.

Miho's seal, however, was very detailed. It looked like the Great Seal, but colored with both gold and what looked like silver.

"That's not silver," said Anzu. "That's platinum."

"Platinum?!" Yukari gasped. "That's even more valuable than gold!"

Miho stared at her seal. The American eagle was colored gold, with a stylized image of the American flag on its chest. It was holding the same items, but the olive wreath was bright green. The arrows glittered very brightly, so much so that Miho blinked a couple of times. The cloud-like image on top also looked very bright.

"Aren't these made of gems?" asked Miho.

"You are right," Anzu bluntly answered. "Same for these seals in the box."

All four of her friends gasped at Miho. Miho sweated very badly. She realized that both the seal on the paper and the badge in the box were made of not only gold and platinum, but also of gems!

"Which means," Momo cleared her throat to get their attention. "That Miho's seal and badge both are made of gold and platinum. The platinum is on the eagle's head and tail. The olive wreath is made of emerald, while the arrows are made of diamond. The blue colors are sapphire, while the red is ruby. The cloud-like image on top, however, is mostly gold, platinum, and that blue part is not sapphire, but blue diamond."

All five girls stood there, stunned.

"W-what kind of a military insignia is that?" stuttered Yukari. "A seal made of precious metals and gems, and the badge too? Is the US so crazy about you?"

Miho was silent, too shocked to answer back.

"Well," Anzu said. "Back to the point. These seals and paper all are proof of your worth in the eyes of the Americans."

"Are we that special?" asked Yukari. "And how did they even make badges and seals out of precious metals and gems? I thought that was impossible!"

"Apparently, they hired the right people to make these crazy stuff," said Anzu. "And send them all the way to us!"

"And now," said Yukari. "That means we're-"

"CELEBRITIES!" cried out Saori. "We'll be so popular with everyone there, including Hollywood hotties and cameras and-"

"Not so fast," said Momo. Saori groaned.

"You are famous, only for those who sent these," said Anzu. "Most people don't know that you guys even have these yet. These documents are real; Kay and a few of her comrades actually checked them out."

"Wait, they actually flew here?" asked Yukari.

"By chance, they were flying nearby," said Anzu. "We gave them permission to land. But they had to leave early, so they took a quick look at the seals and the badges. They told me that these are real. In fact, Kay admitted that it's rare to get such things, even in America."

"If the Saunders say they're real," said Mako. "Then, they obviously are."

"Talk about that . . ." mumbled Miho.

"So, that's the whole point," said Anzu. "We decide that you guys should keep these documents, just in case. We'll keep the badges for safekeeping."

"Didn't you all already copy them?" asked Yukari.

"We did," said Yuzu. "But our printer cannot print gold or platinum or gems . . ."

"If that was so," Anzu said dreamily. "We would be rich by now . . ."

"Shut up," said Momo, but Miho could tell that she was thinking the same thing.

"So," Anzu said, handing out the documents. "Any questions?"

All five members of the leading Senshadou team, the Anglerfish Team, stood silent and still. After a moment of tense silence, Miho nodded, and her friends mimicked her.

"Great!" Anzu said. "Now, all of you, dismissed! Be happy!"


On the same day

3:00PM Saturday, Japan Standard Time

In the same carrier, but in the tank garage . . .

"I cannot believe it all."

Miho declared her feelings to her four friends sitting around. They had a very late lunch, because all of them forgot to eat. They were sitting on top of their favorite tank: the Panzer IV Ausf. H. The memory of their meeting lingered in all of them.

Miho stared at her seal. Real gold, real platinum, real gems . . . It was hard to take it in.

"How did they even make that seal?" Mako asked.

"It's America," Yukari only guessed. "They do crazy things there."

"But this is amazing news," said Hana calmly. "Even I am taken aback."

"You don't look like it," remarked Saori. "Which makes sense, since you're raised into a family of ikebana and all."

"I am still in shock," Miho admitted. She stared down at her bento box, with little appetite. She could not believe what she heard. She knew that everybody in Japan knew that she did the impossible. But to discover that even in America . . .

She shivered.

"You OK?" asked Saori. "How about this? Your favorite dessert!"

Saori handed her a piece of a strawberry shortcake. Miho suddenly smiled.

"Hehe," Yukari grinned. "You're drooling."

"Oops! Sorry!" Miho flustered, wiping her mouth with her napkin. Everybody giggled, as all of them were glad to get away from the topic. Miho munched on the piece, grinning ear-to-ear.

"So, by the way," said Yukari. "What are we going to do next?"

"Eat our lunch, check our tank, and go home," Mako said mechanically.

"Mako!" Saori moaned. "Have a little more energy, for once!"

"I do," she replied, chomping on her desserts. "This is my energy."

"And eat your lunch first, then dessert!" wailed Saori.

"It's my lunch," Mako retorted. Miho giggled at their antics, but suddenly remembered something.

"Oh yeah," she realized. "I remember Anzu saying something."

"What is it?" asked the others.

"She told me," Miho said. "A question: 'What will you be next . . .'"

"What does that mean?" asked Yukari.

"That sounds rather mysterious," admitted Hana. "I remember that, too. I am surprised that she did not go back to that."

"Well, I guess that's not very important," said Saori, trying to change the topic. "What about our tank?"

"Let's check it after our lunch," said Miho. They all agreed.


Two hours later . . .

Miho Nishizumi went back to the garage, and stared at the tank. All of her friends went to their own places, but Miho decided to return back to the garage. She approached it, and caressed the tank. It brought her great memories: the tank that gave them victory in the latest nationwide tournament, and the tank that landed the final hit that defeated the last Pershing in the Selection University skirmish.

Still, the meeting haunted her. It was supposed to be something good, but for some reason, she felt uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

Popular in the US. Popular as the "JJ" to the Americans. Getting a seal and a badge from the US, with a signature from the President himself. And now . . .

She shook herself, trying to avoid the thoughts. She just wanted to enjoy the life that she had right now. In fact, she and her friends were on summer break; until August, they could do whatever they wanted. She walked around the tank, remembering how she came to Ooarai just to avoid the Senshado.

She shook herself again. She did not want to remember that, either. She paced back and forth again, but her steps started to speed up. She felt her heart beating, faster and faster. She tried to ignore it, but it kept coming back . . .

The thought of being known in the US. The thought of being recognized by a huge number of foreigners. The thought of being recognized even by the President. And the thought of being the "Joan of Japan."

She then stopped. Miho stood in front of the reddish-brown tank. The thoughts kept coming back, so she decided to do something.

"Let me check the tank," she said to herself. She looked at the tank:

She and her team formed the Anglerfish Team, the team that won the school the right to stay. Their tank was the Panzer IV. She remembered that when they first found it, it was slightly dilapidated but fully functional, its bluish armor marred by the elements. Now, it was a proud model, its armor slightly shiny. Its 7.5 KwK gun pointed very straight and deliberate, the barrel firm as a strong rock. On top, she glimpsed the 7.92 mm MG 34 machine gun.

"We don't use that much," she said to herself. "More to distract the enemy, although I heard that Saori said it was 'exhilarating.' I don't know what that means, but oh well."

She then touched the armor plates. "Front part is 80 mm," she said to herself. "The sides are 30 mm, and the rear is 20. But the turret's is different; 50 mm in front, 30 mm on the sides, and 30 mm in the rear. Now that I think about it, our tank's back is relatively vulnerable. Good thing to remember that."

She then backed away, thinking. The same thoughts of the meeting started to creep in, but she forced herself to forget. She focused on thinking about the tank more.

"Let me think," she said to herself, feeling her hands sweat a little. "Our tank is a medium tank. An all-arounder type that is good for most situations. We use it to both fight and to move around. And it's overall a good tank to go around and such and such. And we can shoot with gun and machine-wait, cannon and gun and machine gun and-and-and . . ."

She stopped. The thoughts still continued to plague her mind. She started to pant a little.

"Space is cramped in the tank, usual for a tank," she continued her self-rant. "It is driven using levers like a tractor. Engine uses gasoline Maybach HL 120. It's an overall a good tank, but its engine could be better. It's good that it's medium, not heavy like the Tigers or the Panthers. Top speed on road is 42 km per hour, but 16 km at best off road. Better on road than on natural ground. And it's good for driving around, and it's good for all roads and-and better on ground than soil and-and-and . . ."

She suddenly stopped, realizing that she was panting a little too hard. After a brief moment of waiting, she sighed.

"I am going out," she said. "I am not feeling well. Even my tank could not help; my rant alone could not. If only it could understand me and us . . ."

She went out, breathing the fresh air outside. She strolled away, wondering what to do to avoid the same thoughts from plaguing her mind. She almost felt a little . . . crazy.

"What to do," she said to herself, pacing back and forth. She did not notice something approaching near, something glowing like a faint star, which started to edge closer and closer towards her. No, it turned around, and entered the garage . . .


June 21, 20XX

3:00 AM Wednesday, Eastern Standard Time

Washington D. C.: The White House

"Mr. President!"

"Mm?"

The President of the United States of America grunted, not used to a secret agent suddenly waking him late at night. Very late at night.

"Eet must be sumthing big and impurtent," he groaned. "To wafe me up this urly."

"Sorry for that," the secret agent apologized. "But we have orders to wake you up if the device starts flashing."

"Is it?"

"Yes, Mr. President," the secret agent said, sweats pouring from his forehead. "The device detects it. It's coming from Japan."

"Japan, huh?" the President rose up, stretching. The agent already brought in a tray of food, including a cup of coffee. The President took it, and gulped it down in only three mouthfuls.

"It must be that important," he said, much more awake. "Whew! Nice coffee there!"

"It is, and thank you," said the agent. "But now, we must tell the members of the Project Portal."

"Arghh," the President moaned. "The life of a President is never easy, huh?"


Two hours later . . .

In the Oval Office of the White House

"We now know the location of your . . . "weapon" of some sort," said the President, looking at the man in front of him. The agent who woke him up brought the man, who was one of the members of the "Project Portal." The agent, Henry Dexter, then greeted him and left the scene.

The man was the same guy who talked about the "Project" a few days ago. The President recalled being confused over that name, but the man whom he met was even more sinister.

He looked quite massive, about 2.2 m (or 7.21 ft) tall, an imposing figure. The President also realized that the man was wearing everything, gloves and even a mask, to hide all of his skin.

"I wonder why he's doing that," the President mumbled to himself.

"Mr. President," the imposing human spoke.

"Y-yes!" he replied.

"I now can tell you," he said, rather mechanically. "About the Project Portal."

"Oh . . . Thank you," the President answered.

"I will say it only once," the man told the President. "So, listen carefully":

"The Project Portal was created in 1993, initially in direct response to the bombing of the World Trade Center. Back then, the Project was meant to find a way to create special wormholes in the Earth's dimensions, in order to facilitate military deployment. The Project managed to create them, but all of them were too small to be of use. The largest ones allowed us to squeeze mice through, and we found out that the mice could teleport from one place to another.

"We kept developing the project further, in hopes of expanding the size. We started making progress; the portals became large enough to reach in with our hands. However, after the 9/11 attack, the Project became even more authorized."

"Authorized?" the President asked.

"Back then," the agent continued. "President Bush heard bits and pieces about this. He correctly guessed that we were working on something about teleportation, so he secretly passed bills allowing more money into the project. Sure enough, our scientists managed to expand the portals large enough to crawl through. However, we needed to hasten the project; we wanted portals large enough to drive a tank through."

"And what about the Area 51?" the President interrupted. "And a tank?"

"Upon seeing the progress, the giant man continued. "Secret members there brought the project from an undisclosed location to there, for security reasons. Thus, the project accomplished the original purpose, and we polished the project to improve it. However, we stumbled across serious flaws.

"Serious flaws?"

"For one thing," he said. "We can create portals, but so far, we cannot control where the portal leads to. All of our portals so far have failed to lead to our desirable locations; they all lead to seemingly random places."

"Furthermore, we first used portable devices to create wormholes," the man continued. "However, all of them essentially detonated or failed. In fact, we realized that all devices smaller than a tank were one-use. For some reasons, only tanks are large enough, or something, to create multiple portals. Furthermore, they were the only ones, for some reasons, that can actually create portals to places we want to go. However, we could only create one tank that could do all that."

"And what was that tank?" the President asked.

"Classified," he answered. "But we were successful in creating that single tank. It could create portals large enough for a tank to go through, could make more than one portal, and could actually create portals that lead to our targeted locations. This tank was able to create a portal that allowed a M-1 Abrams tank to travel from the state of Nevada to Syria in the Middle East!"

"Impressive!" the President said.

"However," the man said, his voice lowering. "That same tank suddenly exploded."

"But no one got hurt," the President replied. He wondered why that happened.

"No one," the man replied. "But that is where the mystery starts. After the tank suddenly exploded, all of our devices mysteriously stopped working. We still have the research, but none of our equipment can make portals anymore. Even our tanks lost that power."

"So, that's where I come in," said the President.

"Exactly," the man replied. "You are the face of the US. You control the military. You are perhaps the one who could help us to recover the Project Portal back."

"And why tell me now?" he asked.

"It was not an easy choice," the man admitted. "We wanted to hide it further, but dealing with a foreign nation would be quite tricky, especially for a secret project like this."

"So, what's next?" the President asked.

"We find a way to access the entirety of the geography of Japan," the man continued. "And find where that 'portal conjuring source' is."

"And then?"

"And we take that back to Area 51," he concluded.

"And how do we gain the trust of Japan in this regard?" asked the President.

"Remember that time?" the man suddenly grinned, startling the President. "We already sent those documents to those girls back in Japan."

He gasped.

"Wait, that's the real reason for the seals and the papers?" the President asked, flustered.

"Appointing a variety of girls in Japan who practice Senshado," said the man. "Under the pretext of reviving Tankery in the US."

"You're kidding me!" the President said, almost roaring.

"Well, that's politics for you," the man replied.

"Fine," the President replied. "I hope this will work out. But why those girls who received the seals and the badges?"

"Gain the trust of the 'JJ' and her school, then infiltrate through them, and hopefully find where our 'source' is," the man said.

"Why that complicated?" the President asked.

"We have to keep it a secret," said the man. "So, we have to make this plan unusual and complicated, in order to avoid suspicion. It's Area 51, and the Project Portal is in there. Clear?"

"Clear," said the President. "I hope you'll treat them well."

"Oh, yes we will," he said. "We will . . ."

Silence. The President closed his eyes, thinking about everything he heard. In reality, he slightly opened his eyes, to see the mysterious man before him. For some reason, he had a feeling of something not very right . . .

"Are you done, Mr. President?" the man suddenly asked.

Startled, the President regained his composure.

"If that is all, that is all," he said.

"Thank you," said the agent. "I hope to see you again."

As he approached the door, he remembered something.

"Oh yes," he said, turning around. "Mr. President, I forgot to tell you my name."

"You are?" the President asked, used to the mystery of it all. "And thanks for the apology."

"I am Agent Forsaken," he answered.

The President raised an eyebrow. "Forsaken?" he asked.

"My code name," he replied. "I cannot tell you my true name, for security reasons."

"So many security reasons," the President mumbled.

Agent Forsaken only smirked. "You'll see more than that," Forsaken replied, and left.

Alone, the President thought to himself.

"Project Portal . . . Japan . . . Senshado . . . Tankery . . . What will I do next? Or more importantly, what will they be next?"


Wow, I have finally finished this chapter! So, if you guys notice, I am not sure whether to include this chapter as occurring in 2017. If so, then the President would be none other than Trump. He is very polarizing; about half of Americans love him, and other half hate him. I am wondering whether to put the President as Trump, or just make up a President. I need some advice with this.

Besides that, this chapter tied the main points in the previous chapter together. Now, we can see that the US government is up to something, and Miho's tank will play a major role in this! On the next chapter, expect a culture shock! Panzer vor!