A/N: Hello again!

Some of you may remember an author's note a while back that spoke of me going back to earlier to chapters and reworking them. Back then, it was just a matter of reformatting, but now, I've looked at earlier chapters again and now decided to not merely rework them, but remaster them. The first five chapters of this story has been 'remastered' and more will be done as I see fit. I want to give user Rihnoswirl a MASSIVE thanks for his invaluable feedback to get this 'remaster' on the right track. I encourage you all to read his story, 'Dein Weg ist Mein Weg'. A 'What-If' fic that retells the main story with wonderful dark twists and will for sure tug at your hearstrings. I love it to death :)

Anywho, enjoy the chapter!


Monday, September 16th 2013

The room where Catalina's student council met and worked was busy, as it always was when a school event was fast approaching. Next Wednesday, a play that has been long in the making and near ready for its premiere. It was a tragedy, the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln. Though that wasn't enough for the people in charge of the play, they needed to inject more creativity. So, of course, they made the murder of a beloved president into a musical.

No one can ever say Catalina's theater department wasn't experimental.

Everything was in the final stages of readiness, though there was a slight problem concerning music. Some might say that the 'music' was the most crucial part of a musical.

"Am I to understand that with just over a week to go, we don't have a piano player?" Madison asked incredulously. She looked at all the faces at the table, and they all averted her gaze. "Like, seriously?"

Slyvia, the treasurer, cleared her throat. "It's the most curious thing, in all the music classes we have, no student has specialized in the piano. That...that has never happened before."

Madison slumped in her seat. "You've got to be kidding me! I know people who play the hurdy-gurdy, a stylophone, a theremin, and this one guy rocks with a reconstruction of a bone flute used by Neanderthals, all those exotic, weird instruments, and we don't have anyone who plays the piano? A super common instrument? Who messed up here?"

"You," replied everyone in the room, including Alice, which shocked Madison when she heard her voice.

"What do you mean, me?"

"In your first year as president, back when you were a freshman, you made changes to the music department," Effie, the council's secretary, said. "One of those changes was that the department was to buy more exotic instruments, and now, two years later, the ripples of that decision is being felt. Those exotic instruments are cool. Too cool. Incoming music students gravitate towards those, and as the years have gone by, fewer and fewer new kids are specializing in traditional instruments. Thus, no capable piano player. "

"I do know of a girl who can play the organ if that helps." suggested one of the council members.

Madison quickly shook her head. "An organ won't work for every musical number."

"Right..."

"Any other ideas to get this predicament of ours solved?"

The bell rang before any of the other student council members could utter an answer, and frankly, they were glad it did ring as they snatched their belongings and raced out to their next class. Madison, elbows on the table, pinched the bridge of her nose as she let out a sigh.

"I sure am surrounded by great problem solvers...geez."

Alice, who remained in her seat next to Madison, gave her a playful prod on her shoulder. "I may have a solution here."

"I'm open to anything."

"You know the girl now heading the costume department?"

"Heather? Yes, I do. She's got a knack for the needle and thread. The costumes she designed are gorgeous. What about her?"

"She's got a girlfriend whose bit of a musician, and from what she tells me about her, does play the piano."

Madison grabbed Alice by both her shoulders.

"I. Need. Her."

"I'll see what I can do. She might need some convincing, though."

"Are you saying we bribe her or something?"

"You're saying that, not me."

Madison tapped an index finger against her chin. "We'll make it worth her while. If she asks for anything, say 'yes' and I'll take care of it."

"Fine, fine, keep spoiling the tankery team."

Madison shrugged. "I am who I am. A girl who loves to spoil."

"Never a more truthful statement," Alice reached for her and bag and was halfway to the door when she turned around. "This is unrelated, but do you know what's up with your sister?"

"Valarie? What about her?"

"Earlier in the morning, I saw her walk onto campus, sporting a death glare. I don't know her as much as you, but, man, she's furious at something."

"Did you ask her what's wrong?"

"Hell no. If I had a Geiger counter and pointed it at her, the thing would go insane. That's why I'm asking you, her sister."

Madison brought her hands together and shrugged. "I haven't talked or seen her this morning, so I'm in the dark as much as you."

"I do hope it's nothing serious."

"Likewise. If anything, whatever has soured her mood like nothing else most likely relates to the tankery team," Madison got her bag and headed toward the door. "In that case, we don't interfere at all. Let's not get caught in the blast radius."


"One of these days, it's gonna happen."

"Mmmhmm, it will."

"One of these days..."

"Yeah! Though, if you want to be technical about it, the correct wording would be 'one of these nights'."

Paige sighed, which turned into a small chuckle at the end.

"Right, right."

During a break between classes, Paige and Eli, gunner of the Panther II, found each other passing by in the hallway and decided to have a quick hangout. Their conversation was what the people around them expected, people who at least had a surface-level knowledge of who they were; tankery. Specifically about the infrared devices mounted on their machine. The devices were shot and torn off more times than the Panther II crew has used them in their intended purpose, night vision, which, thus far, the opportunity has never presented itself. So, zero times.

Matches have never gone on long enough for night to fall, a true night where the darkness was so thick that a person could honestly think they could cut a piece of it with a knife. Never during the American nationals, and so far, not in the world tournament. The latter irked the Panther II crew to a degree. They all vividly recall when the team went to Ireland prior to their first international match in Spain, and Saint Apolloina told them that it wasn't irregular for matches to last well into the night.

A lie? Or an exaggeration? They didn't know what to believe, but that didn't stop Paige and Eli to happily dream about what they'll do if or when the opportunity finally arrives.

"I've imagined the act a thousand times in my head," Paige shared with a grin. "It's a new moon, and night literally cannot be any darker. We're in an ambush position, watching a platoon of enemy tanks drive by, oblivious. They're blind in the dark, but we're not. We see them with our IR devices, our 'vampire vision'. They'd be so vulnerable."

"A shot at the lead tank to bring them to a stop," Eli said proudly.

Paige approved with a nod. "Quick reposition, then another shot at their rear guard."

"Trapped, penned like cattle ready for slaughter."

"Shoot. Reload. Reposition. Repeat until nothing moves, and we slink away into the shadows. A job well done."

"Vengeance for all the IR devices destroyed."

Wistful sighs escaped from each of their mouths.

"At some point in this tournament, we'll use our Panther II to its fullest potential," Paige said with a boast.

"I sure hope we do," Eli replied. "So, if you'll allow me to be technical again, I got something to say about our tank."

Paige raised a brow at him. "Oh, am I curious about this."

"Alright," Eli cleared his throat. "Our Panther II isn't a Panther II."

Paige stared at his face for several long moments, her head tilted to the side. "I'd love to listen to your logic here."

"I've done a lot of reading about German Panthers, mostly about the gunnery side to see if I can learn any more tips and tricks. In my reading, I've discovered something fascinating. You see, the Panther II project was terminated in 1943 before they were plans of any kind to mount the thing with an 88mm. It was because side armor, Schürzen, added to the Panther I made the Panther II unnecessary. Germany only went as far as constructing a Panther II hull."

"Which is the hull we have...right?"

Eli shook his head. "Nope. Lemme explain it all simple, like. Our 'Panther II' has the hull of a modified Panther Mark. G hull for it to accept the Schmalturm, with that too modified to mount an 88mm gun. It's a hybrid of a Panther Mark. G and F."

Paige threw her arms up in the arm. "So, what the hell do we have if it's not a Panther II?"

"Panther mit 8.8cm," Eli answered.

"Man," Paige uttered. She felt stupid, never before knowing what was the proper name of her machine, that by now she had spent countless hours making the tank an extension of her body. "Why was it called 'Panther II' then when the team won it in that race? Why did the people who manufactured it name it 'Panther II', shouldn't they know better?"

"It's all about advertising. Panther II is a more popular name, and things like video games don't help when they call the thing as 'Panther II' even though it's not."

Paige looked down at the floor for a moment. "Alright. Well. I'm still gonna call our tank the Panther II."

"Same here, it's a cool name, and I'm pretty sure that not only the rest of our crew will still be calling it that name, but also the rest of the team."

"Yeah, that name sure is stuck."

"You know," Paige said, her tone shifting. "I'm willing to bet not even Valarie knows about this. At our meeting later, tell her what you learned," she chuckled a bit. "Knowing something she doesn't know about tanks. Farfetched, maybe, but imagine?"

"Oh, I totally would," Eli remarked. His tone changed as well, one of nervousness. He anxiously tapped his fingers together. "But, ah, I saw her earlier, and she looked like she was looking to murder someone, so...I don't wanna bring this up 'till she, uh, cools down."

"She's angry?"

"Angry, angry."

"Hmm," hummed Paige. "What pissed her off?"


As the school day progressed, people had questions. Some Mojave Rose tankery team members, either from learning from others or seeing her themselves, knew that something has made her furious, a pent up wrath that she controlled and bottled up so that she can unleash it at all the moment of her choosing. As no one wanted to commit suicide, not a single soul dared entertained the idea of approaching her to learn what has made her so upset, less they too enter her crosshairs. The meeting later would, hopefully, yield some answers, uncomfortable as they may be.

Of the few people on the team that has seen Valarie, Cassidy was among them. Earlier in the morning, as she lazily waited for a morning class to start, she happened to gaze out across the courtyard spotting Valarie, with Emma right behind. The two weren't chatting. Emma was silently following Valarie as they walk to their destination. It was unusual, Cassidy thought then, as she, along with every single other member of the team, was well aware that the two girls talked nonstop with each other, talking about everything under the sun with a kiss here and there in between words.

Cassidy didn't see any of that, no signs of any conversation, or any emotion, really. She remembered the look on their faces. Emma's was one of apprehension, her gaze tilted toward the ground, and undertaking great care to have some separation between her and Valarie. For Valarie, her face was pure sternness. Not a shred of emotion existed on it as if it all been violently expunged, a forbidding look that instilled feelings of anxiety and fear. Clutched in her hands was a book, not the team's playbook that Cassidy has become familiar with and has contributed too with her experience from the AMR, but a book with black covers.

Cassidy initially thought Emma messed up big, with Valarie now giving her the silent treatment as a form of punishment. That would explain Emma's timid behavior, but when Emma happened to look at Cassidy, the look on her face wasn't the expected 'I messed up here'. Instead, it was a face that screamed, 'I pity you, so, damn, much.'

It was then that Cassidy realized, to her terror, why Valarie was in such a bad mood. Her blood froze in their veins, her mine scrambled, paralyzed, unable to think a coherent thought. A bell rang throughout the school, informing students that class was to begin, but how could she even start to focus on her studies when later today she would, essentially, go before a merciless judge, jury, and executioner?

The answer was, she couldn't.

As the hours ticked away, Cassidy could only stare directly ahead, totally unresponsive to the on-goings of her classes. She just existed. A numbness radiated throughout her body, on every square inch of skin, to the deepest crevices of her mind. Had she not been so inundated with a flood of extreme anxiety, Cassidy would've used the time she had before school was over to brainstorm some excuse that maybe, a very hard maybe, calm and convince Valarie and let them off with a slap on the wrist. But even if she had spent a million years straight crafting and perfecting such an excuse, every second of work would be futile.

When the bell for lunch pierced the air, everyone in her class bolted out with her the last one out. Anxiety and fear still gripped her, but now she had some clarity to figure out what she had to do next. To tell the rest of the Manhattan Project about the vicious maelstrom that had their names on it.

She whipped out her phone and sent a text to them. Cassidy told them to meet by the school's art museum entrance, a place that she knew would be vacant as the facility was not open during regular school hours. She did not explain the situation fully via text. She believed it was better to say it to them in person, though her message, 'Meet at the art museum ASAP', did no favors in encouraging an aura of positivity. When the rest of the Manhattan Project got her text, they knew something was up.

Cassidy sat at the top at the steps of the school's art museum. She sat very still, hands held together as she waited for the others to arrive. It wasn't long before the sound of hurried footsteps were heard, followed by Aurora appearing as she turned the corner. She stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up to Cassidy, who looked back at her. Neither girl said a word to each other as Cassidy's forlorn expression said it all. Aurora lethargically climbed the stairs and sat next to Cassidy, their woe now combined. The rest of the Manhattan Project soon followed, and each arrival was a repeat of Aurora's; a member looking up at their team, seeing the despair, and slowly joining them without uttering a word.

"We fucked up, didn't we?" Aurora finally said after ten minutes of silence.

"Massively," Cassidy responding, rubbing her ear out of pure reflex to her worry. "There's no way outta this."

"Now," Riley said, her voice cracking. "Do we know for sure that Valarie has found out? There is always the chance it could be something else. It could be her, uh, time of the month?"

Aurora flicked the back of her head. "C'mon, you're a girl. You should know that periods aren't like that. Mood swings are normal, yeah, but she has been angry all day, possibly even since yesterday. She knows."

"How did she find out?" Avery asked. "Did someone snitch?!"

"Oh, calm down," Cassidy responded with an eyeroll. "No one snitched, and you know it. We wore disguises, and the Syndicate has dedicated itself to maintaining match participants' privacy."

"Then, how?"

"Cass," Nathan quietly said. "Remember the day we first worked on our AMR? We were doing something with the engine."

"I...do," Cassidy replied. She was confused why he was bringing this up.

"Do you also remember when I pointed out this thing tucked beneath the fuel pumps, almost totally hidden, but I could see it, and the thing looked kinda outta place since it looked modern?"

"...Yeah."

"I didn't know what it was then, but I think I do know what it is now—a data recorder."

"Oh...oh, my god."

"What, like a black box on planes?" Aurora asked.

"Yeah," Nathan replied.

"And you knew about them and didn't tell us?!"

"I...I forgot, okay?"

"You fucked us!"

Aurora suddenly found herself mere inches away from Cassidy, who has put herself in front of her brother.

"Our parents don't raise their voice at him. I don't raise my voice at him," Cassidy held Aurora by her uniform's collar with both her hands and dragged her closer. "And I'm sure as hell not gonna let you do it. So, let's tone it down, hmm?" She let her go, and Aurora backed off. "Besides, the blame ain't on him. It's on you three."

"Woah, woah, woah!" Riley interjected. "You're blaming all of us?"

"You three have been on the team since day one, and only now you learn they are data recorders? Look, Nathan and I should've known, that's on us, but we've only been on the team for two months now. You? Your freaking one-year anniversary is coming up."

"Uh," Aurora attempted to explain but was flummoxed. How the hell did she nor the rest of her crew never come across the Puma's data recorder in all the time they have repaired and maintained it? "S-shit, I dunno!"

"Going by Nathan's description," Avery then said. "The Puma's data recorder can't be in the engine compartment 'cause we never saw anything like it, and we know our engine well."

It was here that Riley groaned.

"It must be where the transmission is. We only check that place to apply lubricant, which doesn't take long, so we must've never noticed it."

Aurora buried her face in her hands and unleashed a rough groan.

"Sorry...," she said to Nathan. "I'm just on edge here...I'm not going to the meeting later today. I'm going to skip it, say I'm sick or something."

"You think that's the, ah, smart thing to do?" Cassidy questioned.

"Valarie needs to cool down before we can approach and explain ourselves. Imagine what she's feeling right now, a volcano that's about to erupt. We skip the meeting today, and she'll simmer down with time."

"Man, I dunno..."

"Look, we're in trouble either way. It's just a matter of dealing with either a furious Valarie or a not-as-furious Valarie."

Cassidy contemplated for a moment before shrugging. "I know what I prefer."

"Right. We go up to Ray and give him our excuses. Cassidy, you say your brother is sick, and you have to look after him. I'll speak to him and say that me and my crew have to stay after school for a class project. We'll approach him separately so that he doesn't get suspicious or anything or like that."

"Okay...," Cassidy uttered reluctantly. She breathed heavily. "It's something."

"Alright. Now, where's Ray?"

"Normally, I see him by the lunch tables," Avery shared. "But today, he's not there."

"If not eating," Cassidy said, the faintest of grin creasing her solemn face. "He's reading."


Considering the amount of wealth Catalina had in their coffers, it was not at all surprising that the school's on-campus library was spectacular. In fact, the school's administrators expected it to be an exquisite building, and it met that requirement with spades—a tall multi-story pyramid composed of blue-tinted glass and steel. It was without question the most unique-looking building not only on Catalina's campus but throughout the Rembrant, not counting that failed rotating restaurant that now served as a place for some students of Catalina to do things of an intimate and clandestine nature.

For the Manhattan Project, this would be the first time they'd ever enter the library, and it was a sight to see when they went inside. The floor was a carpet that featured a rather trippy pattern of intricate dark brown, red, and gold shapes. Space inside the library was not wasted as every square inch was occupied by either a desk, chair, table, and of course, a sea of bookshelves whose books were about every subject imaginable. Cassidy was confident was Ray in here, somewhere. They fanned out to look for him, and Cassidy was right on the money as on the second floor, they did indeed locate him, sitting at a comfy chair with some books stacked next to him on a small table.

"I'll go first," Cassidy told the group. "Stay out of sight."

With the rest of the Manhattan Project hidden behind bookshelves, Cassidy walked over to Ray, and as she got closer, heard that he was talking to himself, reacting to what he was reading.

"First, you see your son's head on a spear, and then later, you have molten gold poured down your throat after you yourself are killed. You just had to go to war with the Parthians, Crassus. You wanted more and gambled, where you then lost in every possible way."

The sight of someone appearing just above his book made Ray set it down. He smiled at Cassidy, who somehow found it in her to smile in return.

"Hey, what's up?" he greeted. "Here for some reading, I'm guessing? All about baseball?" a chuckle. "Oh, I'm just teasing."

"Actually, I'd love to read about baseball," Cassidy said, answering with a faint chuckle of herself. "But, what I'm here for is that I won't be at the meeting later today. Nathan's out sick, and I gotta watch the little guy, ya know?"

"I'm an only child, but yeah, I getcha. I'll tell Valarie that during the meeting later. She'll understand."

Ray was oblivious to Valarie's mood and the fact that she was on the warpath. Cassidy cleared her throat as her stomach turned itself into wicked knots.

"C-cool, thanks a bunch."

Cassidy left quickly, and Ray returned to her reading. Scarcely a minute passed by when he saw Aurora make herself present in front of him.

"Oh, hi," he said to her.

"Hi, uh," Aurora started, but her nerves were shot. She had to focus incredibly hard to get her sentences out without her voice quivering. "My crew and I have a class project that we'd love to knock out right away, so we'll have to miss today's meeting."

"Huh, that now makes five people who'll be missing the meeting today," Ray remarked with some curiosity. "No one has ever missed a meeting before. Though, I guess something like this was bound to happen anyway. Thanks for the heads-up."

"You're, ah, you're welcome."

Aurora left Ray to his reading. She passed by the bookshelf that the rest of the Manhattan project hide behind, and once they saw her, all made their way out of the library.

Outside the building, they all exchanged glances before separating and going about the rest of the school day. They wanted to say something at the library entrance, something that would bring at the very least an iota of positivity to the situation they have put themselves in. But none of them spoke another word as they left the library. It was the anxiety coursing through their veins that held their tongues hostage, though another emotion flowed in their bodies, delusion. What Aurora and Cassidy have done in the library wouldn't help them. All they did was take the shovel from Valarie's hands and dug their graves deeper and closer to hell than ever before.


The afternoon sun became shrouded by clouds that dimmed the day. It matched her mood as she laid upon the turret of the T-44. Valarie was the first person to arrive at the garage, along with Emma, who was meandering by the toolboxes a good distance away, looking for any tool to toy with as a means to pass the time. As members of the team trickled in, most merely gave her a cursory glance before tending to their machines, but those that looked at her longer than a few seconds could sense that something was up. They have never seen their captain, a girl ordinarily friendly and so approachable, be in such a dour mood.

It was only natural for people to start to speculate quietly among themselves. When most of the team arrived, Valarie's mood has become common knowledge; what wasn't was the why.

When Heather and Ashley arrived at the T-44, they did it slowly. They walked toward their machine with a level of precaution as if the ground between them and their tank was laid with mines.

"Val," Ashley said. "Um, what's up? You feeling okay?"

Valarie had the tankery book on her lap, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the front cover. Initially hidden by Emma, she retrieved it from its hiding place when Valarie asked for it without wasting a second.

"You'll know later," Valarie said, her eyes not at Ashley but locked at the main entrance of the garage. "Everyone will know."

"Oookay, uh, can't wait."

The meeting was only minutes old when Gabrielle entered the garage and quickly went up to Valarie. Unlike everyone else on the team, she did not notice or feel the tension in the air as her mind was entirely occupied by something else.

"Hey Valarie, I got an ultrasound scheduled in like half an hour, so my husband and I won't be here for today. You'll have to lock down the garage when the meeting is over."

"You got it, Mrs. Redwood," Valarie answered with an artificial cheer and forced a smile. "Hope the ultrasound goes well. Will you be learning the gender today?"

"Nah, I want to be surprised on the big day. Surprises are just the best, aren't they?"

"They sure are. Have a good evening."

As Gabrielle left for her appointment, the T-44 crew watched as Valarie's face returned to the state it was prior as if there was a switch that she flipped. Valarie's performance that nothing was wrong was acting that would've made Madison proud had she been there to see it herself, and it grew the worry that existed between them.

Valarie waited a few more minutes to ensure Gabrielle was truly gone when she then stood up on her tank. She scanned the garage and spotted two vehicles with noticeably absent crews.

"Just when I thought you guys couldn't fuck up more, you prove to me that you can."

She gestured to Emma to come closer.

"Get Ray,"

Emma wordlessly complied. Half a minute later, she returned with Ray. He was no longer oblivious to things. He, like everyone else, felt the foreboding aura in the air.

"What's─"

"Where are the AMR and Puma crews?" Valarie interrupted.

He was taken aback a bit but quickly composed himself.

"Cassidy is watching her sick brother, and Aurora and her crew are working on a class project."

Valarie jumped down from her tank and got in his face.

"I don't believe that for a fucking second. They're hiding from me because they knew what they did was wrong, but in their infinite wisdom, they did it anyway. Bring them to me, Ray, even if you have to drag them by their hair. Don't you dare come back without them."

Order received, Ray bolted off to the apartment complex. Valarie calmly sat back down on the T-44 and crossed her legs. She reviewed the book as she waited for the arrival of the condemned.


Their TV was on, but neither Cassidy nor Nathan could bother to pay attention to what was being shown. It was for background noise, a way to prevent an uncomfortable silence from manifesting in their apartment. Regardless, no matter what they did, nothing to assuage their emotions.

"I'm going to sick for real because of all this," Nathan remarked. He placed a hand over his abdomen. "My stomach hurts."

Cassidy wrapped her arms around her brother, her head resting on the top of his hair.

"You and me both."

They heard a knock at their door. The siblings exchanged glances before Cassidy went to the door to answer it. She saw Ray with a concerned and worrisome expression.

"You both need to come to the garage," he explained. "Fast."

Cassidy looked behind him and saw Aurora and the rest of her crew. They all wore their uniforms, and their gazes turned to the floor. Cassidy sighed.

"Give us a minute to get ready, and we'll head on over."

"Okay," Ray replied. Before Cassidy disappeared into her apartment, Ray spoke again. "Can I know what you guys did? I won't be mad, promise."

Knowing that they had nothing else to lose, Cassidy simply answered, "Tankathlon."

She closed the door as she went to get dressed in her uniform. Ray waited outside, the gears in his mind turning over what was said to him.

"The hell is 'tankathlon'?"


The walk toward the garage was crippling on their minds. Though the distance between the apartment complex and the garage was short, every step taken by the Manhattan Project felt as if they were wading through molasses, a state of mind so powerful that they could genuinely feel their legs ache. Ray walked behind them, and though he repeatedly said that he wasn't mad and was more than ready to forgive them, Cassidy, Aurora, and the rest could not shake the feeling he was like a guard escorting his prisoners to the execution chamber. A feeling that Ray by no means intended, but a sensation no one could deny existed.

When the garage came into view, it was quiet—an unsettling silence. The sounds of tools at work, the echoes of struck steel, the shuffling of shells, and the pleasant conversation that overlaid all of that, usually a mainstay of the team's meetings, now, absent.

The reason why was made apparent when the group walked into the garage. No one was working on their vehicles, for they all been commanded to assemble at the T-44. Over sixty people stood meekly in front of the machine, with Valarie standing on top of the turret, her arms crossed, an inflamed gaze directed toward the approaching group.

Ray split off to join the rest of the team as people parted to allow the Manhattan Project to get in front of them. They were now before the T-44, with Valarie looking down upon them with wicked scorn.

She reached into her pockets and got out two pieces of folded paper that looked like they were once crumbled and later carefully flattened again. Valarie unfolded one of the documents and read it aloud for all to hear.

"September 15th. 3:36 PM. The Sdf. 234/2 was struck by a 37mm round where it was then knocked out," she let the paper fall from her hand as she unfolded the other. "Two minutes prior, the AMR 35 ZT-2 suffered the same fate." she dropped the paper, and it landed in front of the Manhattan Project. She placed her hands behind her back and leaned toward them. "The goddamn audacity to do this. Unsanctioned fucking tankery!"

"We have a good reason why we did what we did..." Aurora explained, but her voice trailed off when Valarie hopped down from her tank and got close enough to place a finger on her collar.

"Good reason, my ass!" she exploded. "What you five have done was beyond reckless and stupid," Valarie took a step back and gestured to all three members of the Puma crew. "I'm stunned, genuinely stunned that you three have done this bullshit. You? People who been on the team since the fucking beginning? You should be making examples, not being made an example of, for god sakes! Do you realize what damage you brought to this team? Do you?"

"We wore...disguises..."

"My god," Valarie reacted with a sigh. "If you felt the need to wear disguises, then maybe, that should've tipped you off that what you were doing wasn't a fucking good idea!" she reeled it back in, though only slightly. She brought her hands back around her back and paced back and forth in front of the five. "Well, at least among you five, there was at least one working brain cell that compelled you all to wear disguises. That should mean that no one outside this garage would ever know that members of this team did tankathlon, right?"

The five quickly nodded.

"Good," Valarie said sharply. "All the same, your stupid stunt was beyond risky. Imagine if people find out, hmm? That a school currently competing in the world tournament has done tankathlon," her rage then boiled. "Have you forgotten that this team is coed?! We're controversial enough as is!"

"Then let's embrace it," Cassidy uttered.

Valarie stopped dead in her tracks and marched up to her.

"What the hell do you mean by 'embrace it'?"

"We're controversial already, why not, ah, why not double down on it? It'll be our charm..."

"Double down," Valarie mocked as she shook her head. "I've told you, like I've done with every crew since that Montana match, about how some people view male participation in tankery, and you damn near gave those people another reason to hate us," Valarie glanced at Nathan, who was staring at the floor, then looked back at Cassidy. "You're putting your brother at risk, Cassidy. Ask Ray about his time at a convention in Houston, and you'll learn just how despicable people can be."

Cassidy couldn't formulate a rebuttal of any kind as she knew any words she said would just bounce off Valarie, their effect utterly meaningless. Valarie soon stopped pacing and climbed back on the T-44 so she could again look down on them.

"Now...I want to hear why you five took your vehicles, without permission," she stressed that last word hard. "to go do tankathlon."

Aurora spoke for them all.

"The time between matches is too long at like, one month apart. We did tankathlon as a way to keep our skills sharp."

"A match a month is more than enough," Valarie sternly told her. "It's more than enough time to prepare, stock supplies, train new crews when we get them, create the strategy, and most importantly, actually fucking get to our match location without having to worry about being a goddamn no show. If you haven't noticed, school carriers are not the fastest things to set sail."

"But─"

Valarie raised her hand.

"No, I don't want to hear another damn word from any of you. It's time for your punishment," Valarie picked up the book that she had set aside and flipped through the pages. As she did, not a person in the garage moved a muscle. "The one good going for you five is that none of you will be kicked off the team. I'd have to convince Mr. and Mrs. Redwood to allow that, and I very much prefer to handle your mess all by myself," she reached the page she was looking for in the book. It introduced a section simply entitled 'Discipline'.

"This book here shares ideas of what to do with tankery team members who require punishment. Some are good and will be implemented, but there are also other ideas I want to do but simply can't, like the one idea of forcing you guys to sit out the next match. God, I'd love to do that. Making you guys miss a match would make you all feel miserable, and rightly so. But...guess what? I can't! If I did that, it would hurt the team more than it would you, as it would rob them of two of our three scouts! We're not at all like those huge and rich schools that have back-up crews for their tanks! That pisses me off more than you know."

Valarie took another glance at the book before closing it loudly.

"Your punishment is as follows; you five are now responsible for the maintenance of all of the team's tanks, cleaning the garage and making sure it's spotless before the end of every meeting, and because you think practice isn't enough for you all, the Puma and AMR will be used as live target practice. Your punishments are effective tomorrow and will end when I say so. Now, though, I won't kick you off the team," she pointed to the main entrance. "I don't want to see any of you right now. Get out of my garage."

The Manhattan Project, rattled to their core, gave faint nods and turned around. The team, watching the beratement go down, again parted, and the five quickly left and went straight to their apartments. Valarie gave the team a look, a wordless command for business to resume as normal, as strange as it would be now considering what they all just saw.

They dispersed and returned to their respective vehicles, and people worked, but an uneasy feeling lingered in the air. Today's meeting would be remembered, a memory that people would want to forget.

At the T-44, Valarie leaned against her machine and sighed the heaviest of sighs. Emma stood nearby but did not approach as she wanted to give her girlfriend the space she needed, but when she heard sniffles, she just had to step in. She reached for her hand and was beyond glad when Valarie accepted and held her firmly.

"Emma," Valarie said wearily. "I hated to do that. True, genuine hate."

"Then...then why do it?"

"Because it was necessary, and, god, I hate that even more."