Friday, April 12th 2013

The final day of the convention has arrived. A day for some hoped to be filled with good times, but instead, those same people will be in a partially formal setting. Today, prominent former tankers will convene in a room in the convention where they will hear the rule proposal set forth by the Association. Not only will this rules committee come together, but also the team captains of the schools who have attended the convention. They serve as representatives of the nation's tankery athletes. They have no vote, only to share their opinions for consideration by the committee. In a hotel room, some young teens got ready. Valarie and Ray were dressed in their uniforms, freshly ironed.

"Only two reps per school, so it's just going to be me and Ray." said Valarie.

The rest of the crew were dressed much more casually.

"Okay, but if you need anything, we're just a text away." Emma said.

"Thank you very much."

Valarie and Ray left the room, with Ray carrying a small binder of notes. As they were waiting for the elevator, he had an unrelated question that he was dying to know the answer too.

"So, are you and Emma now—"

"Dating? Yes." Valarie finished

A huge smile formed on his face. An infectious one.

"Congratulations." he said.

"Thank you. I'm curious, Ray, are you, uh, taken?"

"Taken?"

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Oh. Not right now. I'm not sweating over it though. Dating is not a thing you should rush into"

"But you've dated before, yeah?"

Ray put his hands behind his back. Out from his mouth escaped an embarrassed laugh.

"Um…no."

"Really?"

"Yeah, as I said, I'm in no rush."

The elevator arrived and its doors opened.

"Alright, I can understand that. I won't tease you over it."

The pair boarded the elevator, which took them down to the lobby. In another of the hotel, another person was preparing for today. Though she had neglected to pack clothing remotely close to formal, thankfully the person she was sharing the room with did. Redwood was more than happy to let Buchanan to wear some of his clothes for today. Her attire was a white dress shirt with a black tie affixed to her neck. For the bottom portion was navy blue slacks. Her ashy blonde hair was then put in a pony tail. A view in the mirror revealed a totally different person.

"I've never looked so professional in my life." she remarked, amazed.

"It's a good look. A damn good one." Redwood complimented.

"Well, it is your clothes so there is some bias here. Still…"

She struck a pose in the mirror.

"I do rock the outfit."

Buchanan looked at the time.

"Twenty minutes till it starts. I'm off."

Redwood rose from the bed he was resting from and went toward Buchanan to give her a warm embrace.

"It's all going to turn out fine in the end. I can feel it." he said, stroking her hair.

The two looked at each other and exchanged kisses.

"Thanks, Martin. I hope this week can end on a high note."

With that, she left the room, out of the hotel, and toward the convention. Redwood would remain in the hotel room. Her departure started a long wait. Before the sun would set today, her future will be decided.


Away from all the booths and attendees was a section of the convention that was dedicated to being a place where meetings could be held. Outside a set of doors was a group of people. The representatives of the schools composing of two people, the captain and co-captain. All of them were wearing their uniforms. Ray and Valarie were among the last to arrive, the group chatting among themselves.

"This is it." Valarie said.

"Is it weird that I'm having the same feeling right before a match?"

"No, I feel it too. This is going to be a tough one."

One of the group took notice of their presence and walked toward them. It was a person that Valarie had met before.

"Ah, I would have never guessed that when last met, that I had the pleasure of meeting the captain of Mojave Rose."

"It never came up." Valarie said.

"Of course! A mistake on my part. Another mistake is not introducing myself when we first met. Let's have a do-over, shall we? My name is Penelope Hathaway and I am the captain of Molly Pitcher's tankery team."

"Valarie Woodlin."

"Hmm. Woodlin." Penelope mused.

"That's a rare surname if I ever heard one"

"It is. People all my life told me they have never heard of my last name before."

"Well, I will most certainly never forget it then. Considering its rarity."

Penelope noticed Ray, his eyes scanning her.

"Something has certainly caught your eye." she said to him.

"Your uniform. It's beautiful."

Molly Pitcher's uniform was custom made just for them. They resembled the uniform of American revolutionary soldiers. The center was a striking red with genuine gold buttons. The sleeves were a dark blue with the cuffs the same red as the center. What sealed it all together was the two white sashes worn over each shoulder, forming an 'X' over the body.

"A wonderful design, isn't it? Since my school is located in Boston, how our uniforms would look was fairly obvious."

"Oh it is. Great execution. Perfectly represents the history the area you're from."

"Why thank you. I'm always glad to hear people appreciating our uniforms."

"I always appreciate history."

"Well, that's just fantastic. Take care now you two. Oh, and, congrats on the Panther II."

Penelope walked away and rejoined with her co-captain.

"She's nice, isn't she?" Ray remarked.

"What's wrong with our uniforms Ray?" Valarie asked, her voice having the faintest trace of anger.

"Um…nothing at all? I never said they were bad?"

"I never heard you say our uniforms are great. Are they too bland for you?"

"Bland? No! These are genuine WWII-era American tank crew uniforms! Our uniforms are badass!"

Valarie crossed her arms.

"I just wanted to hear it."

From around the corner, another arrival. Ray and Valarie didn't recognize her at first, but once she got closer, it was clear who it was.

"Miss Buchanan? Woah, you look stunning!" Valarie commented.

Buchanan blushed slightly.

"Yeah? This get-up does suit me very well. Anyway, the meeting hasn't started yet, right?"

The doors nearby opened and people made their way inside

"It just has." Ray said.

"Alright, I'll just be outside if you need me. Good luck you two. I don't want to put too much pressure on you, but my job is on the line here."
With solemn nods, Ray and Valarie walked into the room to attend the meeting. Soon, the outside became quiet as everyone, save for Buchanan, had entered the room. Alone, she sat on a chair against the wall. The stillness in the air matched the feeling of being in a hospital. Uncomfortable. Unnerving. A spark of dread. She felt a chill. This wait was going to suck and is going to feel like it's going to go on forever.


In their room, Heather, Ashley, and Emma were passing the time watching television. They weren't really focusing on what was being played, it was just for noise. They were all on their phones. They were teenagers after all. Though they were on their devices, it didn't mean conversation was nonexistent. They chatted. The main topic that kept popping up was the rules committee and what else they could do to help.

"There's gotta be something else we can do to help, but what exactly?" Emma wondered.

"We helped with the argument as much as we could with the argument. We worked with the information we had. I guess if we had info the Association had, that could lend us a hand."

"Having their info…" Ashley echoed in a whisper.

She slowly rose from the bed, which she had immediately called dibs on when Valarie left the room.

"Their info…insider stuff." she uttered.

Ashley looked toward the closet in which her uniform was dangling from a hanger. She had a brainwave.

"Heather. Did you happen to bring a sewing kit?" Ashley asked.

"I always have them with me."

Ashley ran toward the closet and got out her uniform.

"What are you doing?" Emma questioned.

"I just figured out a way to help. Heather, could you please remove the sponsor patches on my uniform?"

Heather looked at Ashley briefly with confusion but then smiled as she quickly figured out what she had in mind.

"I can do that no problem."

She got Ashley's uniform and got out her kit and set out to work. Emma remained puzzled over what was going on.

"I'm lost. What's your plan?"

"The uniforms of ATA officials look pretty damn close to ours. So, my plan is to modify my uniform to look like theirs and sneak into their offices at the convention to find any info that could help us out."

Emma stroked her chin.

"Devious. I love it."

"A uniform will help but you'll need more than that." Heather remarked, her hand steady with a needle.

"What do you mean?" Ashley asked.

"The people in those offices will probably be very suspicious if a sixteen-year-old girl is suddenly walking around their area."

"I'll just say I'm an intern."

"That may work but it's better to be safe than sorry. You'll need to look older."

"Um, how?"

"Make-up."

"Make-up? Ah, I don't think that—"

"Emma, in my bag is some make-up that'll do the trick. Mind fetching it and applying it on her?"

"Now wait a second!"

Emma gleefully searched Heather's bag and got out her make-up. She turned to face Ashley with a smirk.

"If you can please, Ashley, follow me to the bathroom."

"Oh…Christ."

The two girls went to the bathroom.

"Hold still now. I don't want to make a mess on your face.

"Just get it over with." Ashley dejectedly said.

At once, Emma applied the make-up. She was having way too much fun with it as she was giggling non-stop, much to Ashley's annoyance. Bags were added under her eyes. Wrinkles on her forehead, and cellulite dotted on her cheeks and chin. Once done, Emma leaned back, as an artist would after finishing a masterpiece.

"Perfect. Take a look."

Ashley turned around to look at her reflection and gasped.

"Oh my God! I look so old!"

"That's the point."

"I think you've overdone it."

"Mmm, don't think so."

Ashley sighed and left the bathroom.

"How's the uniform coming along?"

"I went on my phone to look up the ATA's uniform to use as a reference."

She turned to show them her work.

"How'd I do?"

Heather's skill with the sewing needle has once again stunned Emma and Heather. On the chest area was the insignia of the American Tankery Association, an eagle with tank rounds in one claw, tank tracks in the other.

"That looks like the real deal! Amazing!" Ashley exclaimed.

Heather was beaming with pride.

"This will put my cosplay skills to the test."

Ashley was returned her uniform where she eagerly put it on. Once it was done, they reviewed.

"Alright is that all? You guys think I'm ready?"

"Oh! One last thing!" Emma said.

She went to a close-by cabinet and got out a clipboard. She then got some paper to put some on.

"You need a prop."

"Good thinking. Okay, I'm going."

Ashley reflexively put on her personal rounded sunglasses, tinted red.

"That's good Ashley. Older women who are insecure wear sunglasses to hide their age." Heather joked.

"Oh, shut up."


The room where the rules committee met was unbelievably quiet. Its walls acted as excellent soundproofing. The representatives sat at tables arranged in a semi-circle with a few feet separating them. Ahead of them was a larger table where officials of the Association sat. At the front of the room was an elevated stage where the members of the rules committee were situated. Everyone was in the process of getting settled in. Valarie and Ray sat at a table near the edge of the semi-circle. Once settled, they look around at their fellow representatives.

"All these schools can't still be in the tournament? Some of them must've already been eliminated." Ray said.

"No. You don't have to be in the tournament to be here."

"Hmm."

Ray continued looking at the other people in the room. As he went person-to-person, busy with their own notes, there was one individual that made him shudder. She was staring directly into his pupils. Just across from where they sat, was her. The one who harassed him. The one who did the worst of it.

"Damn…" he muttered under his breath.

"What that Ray?" Valarie asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just a cough."

A member of the committee tapped on her microphone, the sound echoing throughout the room. It seized everyone's attention.

"Good morning, representatives. Welcome to the fifty-ninth meeting of the rules committee. We are very pleased over the attendance for this year. The agenda for this year was set forth by the ATA. They have submitted a proposal to modify rule fifty-seven, section six, item 'J'. To put it simply, what they are proposing is to enact stricter criteria on who can become a tankery instructor. The ATA will now explain their reasoning."

One of the ATA officials stood up from her seat.

"Representatives. Members of the committee. The Association in recent months, has been rethinking the way schools approach hiring instructors for their tankery teams. We've concluded that the current criteria are far too lax. It opens to doors for instructors who hasn't actively participated in tankery for some time. Such instructors do not possess relevant experience. We need to ensure that tankery teams across the nation only have the best quality instructors to choose from. As such, anyone who wishes to be an instructor should have been an active participant in tankery within the last three years."
The official sat down. Another member of the rules committee clicked on her microphone.

"Representatives. Now is the time for you to voice your opinions regarding the proposal. Merely raise your hand to be called on, then state your name and school you are from."

No hands immediately raised. Sensing that now was the opportunity, Valarie shot her hand in the air.

"Yes, you."

"Valarie Woodlin from Mojave Rose. We object to the proposal introduced by the ATA mainly due to the fact that the time frame of implementation is unreasonable. Two weeks to find an instructor with the stricter criteria in effect? Fast food joints don't replace employees that fast."

"Your objection has been acknowledged. Any other schools who want to share their thoughts?" one the the members said.

One of the representatives, wearing a woodland camouflaged uniform, had a devilish smile on her face. Cassandra found Mojave Rose's objection revealing. It told her that should the proposal be adopted, they would be affected by it. It would hurt them. She has never really cared about this committee and anticipated it to be a boring affair. Instead, she was presented with a chance to deal a blow to Mojave Rose before their match with them later in the month. She spoke with her captain.

"Evelyn, I think we should support this proposal. It's a no-brainer, really."

"Really Cassandra? I dunno. The time frame Mojave Rose mentioned is short."

"Oh c'mon, two weeks is plenty of time. It's not like there's a shortage of qualified instructors in the country.

"Well, I need to think about it. There's loads of time in the meeting left. I'll make a decision soon."

Content, Cassandra reclined in her chair and eyed the table Mojave Rose sat. They were busily looking at the notes they've brought. Hopefully, it was all in vain, she thought. The room was filled with chatter among the representatives. Yet no more hands were raised.

"No one? Not to worry. There will be another opportunity to voice your opinions later. Now, it is time for the ATA to issue their rebuttal to the noted objection…"


Being the last day of the convention, the number of people present was staggering. It was clear that Friday would be the busiest day for the convention, an all-hands on deck situation. Officials were out and about to ensure that the final day went as smoothly as it can possibly can. A set of circumstances that Ashley was more than happy to exploit. She walked the convention floor with a purpose in her step. The key to success for any stealthy operation when infiltration was needed, was to act liked you own the place. No one would stop and question a person who looked like they were hellbent on going somewhere. Periodically, she would look at her clipboard to give off the idea that she was reading something. She felt calm at times but when walking past officials, she stopped breathing as they came near. They glanced at her and that's all that they would do. They didn't react abnormally. Pleased that her disguise was at the very least passing, she kept walking at a brisk pace. Soon, she had arrived in the administrative area of the convention. It was less populated and consequently quieter. The offices were here and Ashley could see the entrance to them. She remained a good distance away from it, to see how often go too and fro. She leaned nonchalantly against a wall and watched. Ten minutes elapsed and she had only seen two people, both leaving the offices. Some more waiting and no more people were seen. With a deep inhale she walked and entered the offices. She found herself in a room filled with cubicles. Within were computer stations, nearly all of them empty, save for a handful of officials working. The faint sound of typing keyboards and the hum of computers could be heard. The few people inside paid no attention to Ashley. Elated, she went to an empty cubicle whose opening was faced away from the door. She sat quietly on the chair, finding the computer before her was in sleep mode. With a shake of the mouse, the screen flashed on, presenting her with a log-in screen.

"Great…" she muttered

She looked around her immediate area. Ashley has been messing with computers during the past several years. In addition to having a passion for music, she has also developed a fascination with computers. So much so that she had built her own computer. Being well learned with the technology, she is keenly aware of common password storage habits. The first thing she did was lift up the keyboard. Tapped to its underside was a piece of paper. Written on it, it said,

Password: tankery

"What a strong, robust password."

She typed it in and was granted access. Upon seeing the desktop, she let out a small groan.

"God, you guys are still running XP? Are you too cheap to upgrade? Sheesh."

She began to snoop through the files. Internal memos were what she was looking for. The computer she was on was linked to cloud storage. Meaning that she had access to the innumerable amount of the ATA's internal data. The whole thing would've been more fascinating had the information she was shifting was even remotely interesting. An endless sea of boring, routine, day-to-day business. The thrill of being somewhere and doing something that she shouldn't be was being sapped by the mundane nature of what she was doing. Though she didn't let herself zone out. She slowly peeked her head above the cubicle to look around the office. The people she had seen before were still in their places, buried in their work. Sitting back down and resumed looking for anything useful. Some memos were found but not one was relevant. Ashley was paying particular attention to when these memos were dated, for surely any that could help the team would be ones created in recent months. She perused through more of them but nothing of note was found. A frustration was beginning to emerge. She closed her eyes to relax, then while blind, clicked on a file at random. When her eyes opened, they widened upon reading it.

"As journalists apparently have a short-memory space considering that the question about the safety of the protective carbon lining continues to crop up, it remains imperative that ATA officials who come into contact with the press to say and only say the following in regards to the carbon lining.

- The only case of failure, ever, was in 1990

- Since then, the ATA has worked closely with the manufacture of the carbon lining to improve it greatly.

- Tankery athletes today are safer than ever

Again, this only applies to ATA officials whose responsibility is to deal with the press. If your job description says nothing about dealing with the media, then the only thing you say when accosted by reporters is to tell them to speak with PR. And not a word more."

Ashley thoughtfully reclined in her seat. She recalled during one of the team's practices, where they were repairing the then-newly arrived SU-100, that there had to be some maintenance done with its carbon lining. She didn't know the exact details. And then there was the mention of the year 1990. Upon thinking about it more, she then remembered another thing. One of the early meetings of the tankery team. Miss Buchanan's first day as an instructor. Her words to them still in Ashley's head.

"Back in the ancient year of 1990, I commanded a Sherman M4A3E8 Easy Eight…During a match, my vehicle was hit by a round and due to a safety failure was set on fire."

The failure that the memo reported must be what happened to Buchanan. The mention of the year couldn't have been a coincidence. She elected to search for memos dated to that year. It took some digging and some file-hopping, but now her work was beginning to bear fruit. The memos from back then weren't made on computers but rather written physically on a piece of paper. Only around the start of the millennium did these old memos get scanned to be stored digitally for archival purposes. Ashley went through them one-by-one. And, boy, did she find something. A title of one memo read,

"Cost-saving measures to maintain the professional league."

Reading on, she read something absolutely stunning.

"The purchase of the redesigned carbon lining is to be temporarily halted as it is more expensive than the old protection with the original formula. This is expected to save $5.4 million per year which can be used to continue to fund the professional league."

The professional tankery league that Redwood had told her about. The one that Buchanan worked so hard just to have a chance. The ATA truly did everything to save it, but couldn't. It was just too expensive. In 1994, the league was shuttered. Ashley opened other memos and found them to have information equally as juicy. A devious smile spawned on her face. Info like this for sure could help the team in some capacity. With a click, she started printing them out. She then left logged out of the computer and left the cubicle, going to the printer and waited. As she stood by, arms crossed, an official left her cubicle and headed her way. Ashley was instantly put on edge. Next to the printer was a fax machine, where the official approached and began pressing buttons.

"Can you believe it? Sending a fax in this day and age." the official said.

Ashley tuned her head to look at her, sweat forming on the back of her neck.

"Uh…tell me about. And these computers! Still running XP."

"I've told them again and again to upgrade to Windows 8, or at least 7, but nooo, it's too 'costly' and what we have is 'fine'."

"Isn't support for XP stopping next year?"

The official let out a laugh.

"All that means is that the ATA will wait till then upgrade. They'll still procrastinate."

Ashley noticed the printer had finished. She picked up the papers.

"Well, I gotta go, the usual you know?"

"I feel ya."

"Hey, thank God it's Friday, eh?"

"Thank the Lord indeed. Bye."

Ashley walked through the office and out the door. To her left, she saw an approaching group of officials, deep in conversation. She made a hard-right and walked calmly away. The moment she turned the corner, she bolted. She ran looking for a map. She had to find where the meeting was and get there as fast as she can.


"Now it is the time for the ATA to issue their rebuttal to the noted objection." a rules committee member announced.

She sat down and in the next instance, an official from the ATA stood up and cleared her throat.

"Miss Woodlin, the objection you have raised is entirely valid. The time frame of implementation, though, we see as reasonable. Yet it does not mean schools that affected by it are just left hanging out to dry. The Association will help such schools by providing them with a pool of qualified instructors for them to hire."

"Would this proposed rule apply to instructors who are just volunteering their services?" Valarie asked.

"Yes. This rule would apply to paid and volunteer instructors."

Valarie sunk into her chair. She turned to Ray.

"Man. This sucks." she said bringing her hands to her face.

Not really know what to say, he just patted the top of her head. A member of the committee then began to speak.

"As there is currently only one objection that the ATA has responded to, it is now time for a recess. Use this time to process all the information you've heard and form your final opinion. Feel free to leave the room but return in twenty minutes."

The representatives got up and left their tables and headed outside. Valarie and Ray lingered in their seats.

"So, uh, do you think we're getting anywhere with this?" Ray questioned.

"Ugh. No idea." Valarie answered in an unsure tone.

They got up from their seats and left the room. Outside was all the other representatives discussing their views about their proposal. The pair went to Buchanan sitting nearby. The look on their faces wasn't exactly reassuring.

"You guys don't have to say anything. It's not going well, huh?"

They nodded and sat down with her.

"Well, there is still a chance after this recess, though I won't hold my breath. Thank you both for trying. It means the world to me."

While they sulked, the other representatives were forming their thoughts.

"Okay, I'm convinced. We're supporting this proposal. It's for the greater good, after all." Evelyn concluded.

"Excellent decision. I'm sure in due time Mojave Rose will realize it was for the best." Cassandra remarked.

Elsewhere, a pair of girls were coming up with a decision as well.

"Mhmm. I don't particularly care about this proposal one way or the other." Penelope mused.

"Likewise. It seems so inconsequential. Do we have to voice our opinion?" Caroline asked.

"No, we could abstain."

"Let's do that."

Back in the meeting room, the ATA officials were happily awaiting the end of the recess.

"Things are going swimmingly. As we expected, Mojave Rose is the only school to issue an objection." Joanna commented.

"There is still time for another school to raise an objection." Martha brought up.

"Doubt it. I'm confident that our rebuttal will sway the schools to support us."

"Ah, good. This is basically settled business then."

Outside the room and people continued talking. The topics of discussion have moved beyond the proposal and were now about trivial things.

"One last chance once this recess is over." Valarie noted.

"Just gotta give it our all. Like in our matches." Ray said.

"Buchanan was about to say something but the sudden sound of someone running caught her attention. She looked down the hall where the sound originated. Coming barreling around the corner was Ashley. She ran toward them clutching papers, breathing heavily.

"Ashley? What are you doing here? And what's with your face?" Valarie questioned.

Ashley rose her hand in the air as she panted. Some seconds later and she recovered somewhat.

"My face? Nothing. Nothing at all. God…it's been too long since I've done cardio…mostly because it sucks."

She took some more breaths than waved the papers in her hand.

"I have something….that may help us out."

She passed the papers to Buchanan, who began to read through them. As she did, it compelled her to stand up. The emotions she was going through was akin to a whirlwind. And it was soon to be reaped. Her hands were twitching.

"Where did you get this?" Buchanan inquired.

"Ah, um, it's crazy! I was just walking around and bam! There they were! Just on the floor and everything! Lucky, huh?"

Buchanan didn't believe her for a second but didn't have the luxury of time to an interrogation on her. Besides, the information in her hands were ones she had suspected of existing for years. Now, she will now finish a part of her life that screamed to end.

"Guys, I've got this. I'll be right back." Buchanan informed.

She marched into the meeting room, the sound of her entrance making everyone within look at her direction.

"It's her." Beth whispered.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Martha uttered.

Buchanan walked toward them with a slight smirk on her face.

"Would it be possible to have a little private meeting?" she asked, all innocent.

The three officials exchanged glances.

"Sure…we could do it here." Joanna said.

"Oh, I feel like for this particular meeting you all want a bit more privacy."

Buchanan revealed the papers in her hand to them. The three officials went pale.

"How…how did you get that?" Joanna demanded.

"It's irrelevant how I got it. The only thing that matters right now is if you want the rules committee to 'overhear' our conversation."

With only one option at their disposal, the officials stood up. They followed Buchanan into a sub-room within the meeting room, one that held conferences. Once they all sat down, Buchanan began speaking.

"Now, maybe you guys can explain a little discrepancy for me."

She reached into her pocket and got out an old press release.

"This press release dated October 1991 says that the issue of the old carbon lining has been resolved and that the ATA was purchasing the new linings with the new formula to distribute to all vehicles nationwide. Yet this memo dated the previous month, September, states that the purchase of new linings was halted. Hmm, what's up with that?"

The three officials were visibly uncomfortable. They were nervously touching their faces.

"Well, uh, you see…" Martha began.

"It was halted, but only temporarily. It was during a time where accounting was being overhauled. Making large purchases would complicate that process. We did resume purchasing the following year." Joanna explained.

"Then explain to me, how the Hell did my team's SU-100 get the old, prone to defects, carbon lining five years ago from a specialist partnered with the ATA?"

None of them said a word.

"I never knew a silence can be so loud. But you don't have to say a word. I know the truth. It was all a lie to save a few more dollars, at the expense of people's safety. What would it take for you people to give a fuck? Certainly not with what happened to me, that I know full well. You were so damn sure that what happened to me was a one-in-a-million occurrence that you foolishly convinced yourself that it can never happen again. We all know that you're only lying to yourself. We all know that there is at the very least a handful of tanks in the country whose linings are defective. It's only a matter of time for it to fail. And when it does, God, it will be worse than the failure that happened to me. When the next failure happens, you will have to face the hysterical parents of a daughter who is mutilated beyond recognition or so horrendously burned that all that remains of their child is her brittle, charred skeleton embedded in her ashes. And, for some fucking reason, you still refuse to play ball, I've got a contact with the press who will gleefully spread this story like wildfire. So, will you play ball or will I have to give you one Hell of a strikeout?"

There was only one emotion that the three officials shared between them; fear. Joanna raised her hands.

"Okay! Okay…what do you want."

"The ATA will purchase the new lining in bulk and mandate that every vehicle in all the tankery teams across the nation be outfitted with them ASAP."

They were stunned.

"That is thousands of vehicles! All the tankery teams nationwide have more thanks than the U.S. Military! It can be done, but it'll take time."

"I want it done before Fall."

"Fall!? You do know there is a tournament going on, right? Our schedule is pretty busy right now!"

"I know. So, before Fall yeah?"

Flabbergasted, the officials began looking through their binders they had brought."

"We gotta…we gotta check the schedule."

"Take your time."

The officials spent the next several minutes scouring over the schedule to see where they could fit in Buchanan's demand. After much debate, they reached a solution."

"Alright. We found a time table where we could do it without interfering with the national tournament. It'll mean that every second between matches will be used to replace linings."

Buchanan grinned.

"Awesome. I'd knew you guys would manage to troubleshoot this thing."

"Yet, we must tell you that all this time replacing linings will go beyond the tournament, which ends in June, with expected completion by the start of July. It would mean that whoever wins the nationals will only have a month to get ready for the international competition, with its first match in August."

Buchanan couldn't stifle a laugh.

"My team only had weeks to go from essentially nothing to being match ready. Whoever wins the nationals will manage."

"Ugh, okay. That's that then." Beth remarked.

The officials stood to leave but Buchanan gestured to them to stop.

"Ah, no. I have some more ideas for your 'consideration'." she said.

Sighing, the three officials sat back down.

"Next, I would like you guys to mandate the inclusion of med-kits in tanks, along with fire-fighting and bailing-out training."

"Uh, okay. That's reasonable. In the next rules committee meeting we'll propose this and work to—"

"Ah ah ah. I believe an executive order from the president of the ATA would bypass the need to go through the rules committee. Wouldn't that be much faster, hmm?"

The officials looked totally defeated.

"Sure…that is an alternative to get those rules in place. It's…seldom used though."

"But in the name of safety, surely, the sooner the better?"

They merely nodded.

"Oh, and your proposal? Yeah, you're going to retract that."

Joanna remained silent, then swallowed.

"Fine."

Buchanan then stood up.

"You know what? I'll throw you guys a bone. You can stop with the settlement payments."

Bewildered, the three officials frantically looked for paper and a pen. Once found, they quickly wrote something down.

"If you're sure, dead sure, then we need this in writing."

"Gladly."

Buchanan was handed the hastily created contract and read aloud what she wrote.

"I, Gabrielle Buchanan, do hereby relinquish the settlement payments sent by the American Tankery Association."

She signed at the bottom and passed back the contract.

"Are we done here?" Martha questioned.

"Yes, we are. Goodbye."

Buchanan headed for the door.

"Wait! The memos!" yelled Joanna.

"Oh, I'm keeping them for collateral. When I see changes being made, I'll destroy them."

"How can we be sure you'll keep your word?"

"Easy. Just keep yours."

Buchanan left the room and went back outside. She called Ray, Valarie, and Ashley over to her.

"What happened? Did you convince them?" Valarie asked.

"Mission accomplished." Buchanan answered.

Instantly they cheered and exchanged high-fives. From afar, Cassandra watched, befuddled.

"What are they so happy about?"

Then, the doors opened and a member of the rules committee came out and addressed the representatives.

"Everyone, thanks to the persuasive arguments of Mojave Rose's instructor, the ATA has retracted their proposal. As their proposal was the only thing on the agenda, the meeting is now adjourned. Have a good day."

Cassandra was very upset.

"What bullshit."
"Ah well, things remain the same I guess. Anywho, let's go eat, Cassandra. I'm hungry." Evelyn said.

The people left the area and dispersed. Buchanan spoke with her students.

"You've done so much for me today that I don't even know how to properly thank you."

"Don't worry about it, Miss Buchanan." Valarie said.

"No, no, I will thank you guys. Just gotta think about it. Anyway, I'm tired so I'm going back to my room. Remember that for tomorrow to meet at the lobby at ten in the morning to head back to the airport. For now, though, enjoy the last few hours of the convention!"


Redwood for the past few hours had tried to sleep but couldn't. Stress prevented him from fully relaxing. Buchanan had left her phone in the room so he couldn't call or text her to learn if things were going well. On the bed, he was restless, shifting around. He had a small headache and he had neglected to pack an aspirin. He took a deep breath and rested his eyes. He wasn't aware of how much time had gone by when he then heard the door being unlocked. When it was opened, Buchanan walked in. Her smile said it all. Redwood leaped from the bed and gave her a huge hug. The couple then shared a long kiss and with that, their time at the 2013 tankery convention has come to a satisfying ending.