Amelia still couldn't take her eyes away from the tank: an antiquated machine whose dust would rival its age for the museum, but one simple fact lingered in her head - it was theirs.

She circled around to the side where she saw the tracks in full, a chain of muddied metal tied by many wheels, large ones on the front and end with a set of smaller rollers in between like legs of a caterpillar. Catching the side of the tank, Amelia saw just how rounded and hunched the turret was, sleek and domed like a turtle's shell with a notable protrusion towards the rear. The cannon stretched out from its front from underneath the curved ivory head. A prominent spotlight hung from the side of the turret, a shell of blue and red stripe covering the glass eye. Shifting towards the back of the tank she noted a subtle black antenna with a blossomed crown at the tip. Reaching the back of the vehicle, the first thing Amelia saw was the nest of jagged plates, orderly fins that lined the entirety of the rear - the protruding radiator. And present all over was the coating of white stripes and jigsaw pattern of faint blocks of varying shades of blue, the regal colors of old Gallia.

Amelia knew nothing about tanks. But the more she took in the sight, the more giddy she felt. But as engrossed her novice eyes were by its powerful size, they remained hungry for more answers, something beyond what she merely saw.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about this thing? Other than the history crash-course."

"Most certainly!" their teacher answered with great enthusiasm. "Where would you like to begin?"

Amelia searched for a topic to start, her brain whirring audibly with drawn-out "uhs". She scanned the vehicle but found her inexperience unable to latch onto a particular topic.

Abbie's voice blurted out, emphasized by an outstretched hand as if answering a trivia question. "Say, that's a pretty cool gun. Looks like it packs a punch!"

"That it does!" Lipponen smiled as she turned to admire the blue-and-white striped barrel. "It's an 88mm cannon, the Breda 48/88 to be precise. The last number refers to the caliber size and the first measures how long the barrel is based on that. A gun of this size is very respectable for tank battles!"

The rundown, though mostly lost in translation in her brain, brought a grin to Abbie's face. "I like the sound of that," she murmured with starry eyes.

Amelia could only look at her with a strange complexion. "Um, if you say so, Abbie…"

Frederick glanced over the tank with his own eyes before his thoughts hit a snag, a new realization reached. "Wait, hold up. I think we're overlooking a fairly big elephant in the room… just what was this doing here in our school?! My impression is that we've never had a tankery club before."

At this, Lipponen could only give a nervous laugh. "Well, it's a long story. It's been around ever since I first asked for the school to form a tankery club. Never had the backing or funding so I bought it with my own savings! Been putting all-nighters in taking good care of that baby all by myself for this eventuality!"

The revelation brought wide eyes and slack jaws upon the teacher as she feigned innocence from what would ordinarily be seen as a highly reckless purchase even with the benefit of claiming to own a military vehicle whose characteristics could solely be described as "cool", "awesome", and "destructive and questionably legal to have lying around".

Lipponen's aura then turned confident. "I may be clumsy on a great matter of things but tanks and tankery are my passion! I give nothing but my all in it!" She finished with a hand on her hip and a fist over her heart.

"Maybe that's why Teach is such an airhead," Abbie quietly shared to the boy beside her. Frederick humored the remark with the smallest of smirks.

Amelia turned to Lipponen with growing interest. This time, she found her own inquiry to ask. "Does this mean the tank can move? We can drive it?"

"Er, yes the Type 37 should be functional," Lipponen answered with a hesitant tone that reined in expectations. "But as the adult advisor I will be the one driving."

"Very sensible," Frederick quietly conceded.

"That said however, I would like to make some final preparations before we can set off!" With that, Lipponen trotted over to a small ladder resting against the tracks, flying up the steps with surprising energy and ease. Standing atop the body of the metallic beast that still slumbered, their club advisor stepped gingerly over to the back, dropping down behind the turret. Her head remained in the open as she called to out to her pupils.

"Feel free to hop on! When you're in tankery, these marvelous machines will be your second home!"

Already Abbie took the invitation with a wide grin. She dashed up the steps under Frederick's cautious eye. "Careful Abbie. Don't want you slipping off."

Having reached the top, Abbie gave a snort. "Relax Freddie. I'm a big girl; a little jump ain't gonna hurt." Striding atop the hull, she clambered over the gun and turret. Securing a footing, she stood over the roof of the tank, brandishing her arms wide for her friends to see.

"Wooo! I'm taller than Frederick now!"

The boy scoffed in good spirits at the joke before he stepped forward after her. "Not anymore once I get up top."

Watching the boy advance with confidence, Amelia was all the more tempted to follow in his wake. Seeing the grand vehicle even up-close was no longer enough - she was enticed to touch and feel it in person.

She took a step but then hesitated. Amelia felt an odd feeling within her - on her back specifically. Like an ice-cold hand slipping down her spine. Or when one gets the tingling sensation of insect legs clung to your backside (Amelia really hated that). Taking a quick breath, she took a peek behind her.

The open garage doors sat immobile, exactly as she recalled them to be. Light beamed through the wide portal, framing the interior in shadow. The outdoors glowed the colors of nature.

But through the light she quickly spotted a pair of heads peering from the side. Amelia jumped with a start which coincided with the unknown observer jumping too, flopping into view onto the dirt.

"Owww…" a voice winced, revealing the identity of one to be a boy. Another voice, a girl's, hissed behind him. "Oh good going. You just had to trip."

The two interlopers glanced up to see Amelia, Frederick, and Abbie over them. The boy, peering up through the bangs of his short-trimmed black hair, withered with a pale face as he blabbered. The girl meanwhile froze before three pairs of eyes as her hands shot up in surrender. "W-we can explain ourselves!"

But as they looked over the unexpected visitors in the light, the tankery club quickly noticed their matching attires, blue like the school's. The revelation that the peepers were fellow students gave them pause.

Frederick took a step back, showing the open palms of his hands. "Relax, we're not going to do anything to you."

"'Cept ask some interesting questions, like why were you spying on us," Abbie half-threatened, half-joked.

Amelia tempered herself from giving her friend a dirty look, drawn more to the fearfulness the two newcomers exhibited. She approached the boy with an offered hand, assuring him with friendly eyes. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you like that. I just had that creepy feeling of being watched."

The black-haired boy reluctantly accepted the hand. "I-I am. And I didn't mean to creep you out with our, um, spying." As she helped the boy back to her feet, Amelia could see he was roughly her age and height despite his timid exterior.

An air of relief blew from the girl as she saw the Gunther daughter help the boy to his feet. She brushed her messy light-brown hair back, her nerves calming. "Yeah, sorry about the way we were watching. It's just that we couldn't help but notice that you had a freaking tank in a random shack on school grounds!" Her brows blossomed up above her shut eyes, drawing the first private questions as to how this girl was able to see.

"Ah, I get it. It was the Type 37 that caught your attention." All heads spun to see Lipponen standing by her club's side, now partaking in the new development. "Quite a sight, wouldn't you say? In tankery, tanks are everything!"

The teacher glanced over the two students with fascination. "Say, have we met before?"

"Er, yeah. At third period Home Ec," answered the boy. "I-I'm Daniel; Daniel Czherny, first year."

"And I'm Katrin Schmidt, also first year," said the girl, her response more a dramatic proclamation by comparison. "And also, I'm his girlfriend."

Daniel's expression instantly contorted with embarrassment. "Katrin!" His hiss came more as a hushed squeal as Katrin bursted out laughing.

"C'mon, what's so embarrassing about it? You're my girl friend after all!"

Abbie sputtered a laugh, sharing the mood with Schmidt whereas Frederick privately rolled his eyes. Amelia found herself tickled by the word play and even a sheepish simper formed on Daniel's face. Lipponen settled with a small smile as the simple joke broke tension. Before they knew it, it was as if they were all acquaintances.

The light-hearted mood lingered until Daniel broke his reticence. He mustered his courage to make the first move. "Um, Ms. Lipponen? Is it okay if we get to check out the tank?"

Lipponen's visage shined bright. "You may! I would have wanted it to be a complete surprise for everyone for today's club fair, but I'll be willing to let you poke around to your heart's content… In fact, if you'd like you're more than welcome to join the tankery club! Then you'll be able to play around with the tank all you want!"

Agape mouths wordlessly stretched into wide grins as both Katrin and Daniel exchanged astonished looks. Their acceptance was made before a word was even uttered. "All right! It's a deal!"

A mirthful look adorned Lipponen's features. As small as they were, she was never more proud of the great steps made before her eyes. Her dream manifested, now with five participants. A mere five was insignificant considered what entailed in tankery, but it was progress that could not be ignored. It was a start, and they could only go higher from here.

She brought up her watch. "Oh dear, time sure does fly by when we're having fun. The club fair's just about to start, so let's all hop in the tank!"

The club flocked to the tank, Lipponen leading the group as hands and feet made their way on the vehicle's exterior, some scrambling with enthusiasm. Abbie, Katrin, and Daniel were the first to climb aboard, shimmying over the hull's skin. The squeaking of hatches filled the air as points of access were unveiled and the students slipped inside, their voices echoing through the open portals.

Frederick stood next to the turret as he leaned over to peek inside. "Careful there. Doubt there'll be any cushioning inside."

Last to join them was Amelia. She ascended the step-ladder, each slow step ringing metal beneath her soles. Her hands felt the cold metal, feeling the dried sheath of paint against her palms. Climbing up reminded Amelia of climbing a tree, the thick cannon just like a trunk as she gripped it for stability. Turning her head around, she was greeted to a new perspective. On the ground, Amelia was nothing compared to the steel giant. But now atop, on the shoulders of that giant, she had the chance to see the world from its perspective. She remained small compared to the tank, but this time she did not feel insignificant. Rather than look up in awe, she now looked down in empowerment.

But no matter which way she looked, she had a sense of respect towards the mass of steel, a bulwark of armor that once shielded their country. And soon would be their aegis for the trials to come.

She gingerly skirted towards an open hatch atop the dome-like turret. Peering close into the dark rift, Amelia could make out the tight confines inhabited by her newfound friends. The circular window limited her view but it also tempted her to step inside; to become close with the tank.

The Gunther daughter took her breath before gingerly clambering in.

With one foot at a time, Amelia gingerly lowered herself down. She slowly descended into darkness, her feet searching solid ground. By the time she found it, Amelia saw she was already swallowed up in a box of metal. Strips of daylight filtered inside to give life to the rustic interior. Everywhere she looked, she saw a jungle of dark iron and her friends packed tight around her (Abbie in front of her, Katrin and Daniel worming around below, and Frederick now standing across the massive cannon breech where there was enough room for him to stand). Turning her gaze upward, Amelia noted a ring of slits that the elevated seat gave her. Peering through, she could see the garage through the narrow windows - the eyes of the tank and the people inside who brought it to life.

Sounds of another creaking hatch and Amelia caught brief glimpses of a yellow dress enter the front seat, one of the two she could see below her. Her intuition told her Lipponen occupied the driver's position. "Okay everyone! What do you think?"

"A little cramped, I guess," grumbled Frederick. "But not too bad. Rather interesting actually."
"First impressions: pretty cool," Abbie remarked. "But I swear my skirt's gonna get caught on something…"
"I barely know what anything does but it's still sweet! A whole lot more wires and cables than I expected though. Hmm, would you smell that."
"K-Katrin you're squishing me…"

Lipponen smiled to herself. "Well strap in! Because here we go… once I start this engine we are driving this to show off at the club fair!"

Everyone had their attentions fixed and breaths held as they waited. A loud roar; the sputtering and smoke. The instinctual signal of a mechanical beast brought to life. They knew not what it sounded or felt like but their imaginations answered for them.

But what they didn't expect was the silence. A delayed quietness filled their ears as a void did to their expectations.

Everyone looked at Lipponen. "What's up?" Abbie asked.

"Something wrong?" inquired Frederick.

Lipponen did not answer as she pressed the ignition again, but again nothing happened. Her frown grew larger as she stared confused. "That's weird… I thought I had everything in place."

Katrin sighed, an energized smirk appearing on her lips as she sat up to give room to the Czherny boy. "Well, let's go see what the problem is. Daniel, winner takes engine."

"Fine." An impromptu rock-paper-scissor game played out in the close confines, silent until the winner was found. "Alright. I'll- Oof! - be right back."

Lipponen glanced behind to see the Schmidt girl rummaging through the cramped interior as behind her, Daniel wiggled past Frederick to worm out of the turret rear that delivered him outside straight to the engine deck. She opened her mouth to call out but held her tongue as she watched curious; as uncertain their actions were, something about them seemed familiar to her.

Katrin's hands swept the floor and crannies of the interior compartment. Lipponen and the others knew not what she sought but the student seemed to search with intent. "What are you looking for?"

"Anything that might be causing the problem," Katrin answered, grunting as she wiggled around tight spaces and legs. "Figured it's either a mechanical or electrical issue and I'm looking for the latter. Got to be something here I can check out."

She continued her search unaware of intrigued eyes she attracted. Suddenly, Daniel's voice echoed from outside. "Woah! Is this what I think it is? An actual serviceable ragnite engine? It's no wonder I smelled ragnoline!"

Everyone looked back, astonished by the uncharacteristic outburst from a boy who seemed afraid to assert his voice. As the tankery club members craned their necks to see the boy's new self, Katrin chuckled.

"Yeah, guess I should've mentioned that we're gearheads. Daniel and I hung out around the same auto shop where we're from. I suppose fixin' stuff is in our family's blood."

The revelation drew amazed stares and impressed murmurs. Katrin continued her work, having found the fusebox to examine its contents. As with the rest of the tank, the electrical innards were recreated archaically (though she suspected that even the bolts, screws, and fasteners at least were made to modern standards). She traced the circuits with her finger before it stopped.

"Uh, Ms. Lipponen? You had this sparkplug in backwards."

The teacher hid her blushed cheeks. "Oh how careless of me. Thank you for finding that, Katrin."

A metal grate slamming shut was heard before Daniel slid back inside. "Found some crossed wires and pressure valves that weren't calibrated right. Engine's good to go now, try starting it up again!"

Turning back to the driver controls, Lipponen began the start-up process again. With an anxious breath, she pressed the ignition.

This time, a loud growl erupted. The crackling sputter gained steam until it became a droning snarl. The whole beast trembled and stirred, disturbed from its long slumber. The hum grew louder and louder, digging into mortal ears. Hearing - and feeling - it all created a primal sensation that swelled until it overflowed into cheers.

The Type 37 rumbled and roared to life. Now awake, it would no longer submit to slumber.

It took Lipponen a good second for her emotions to catch up to the sensations. She grinned, she laughed, she danced a jig in her seat, she did everything at once; she couldn't help herself. All the effort, all the pain, all the broken hearts and spilled tears. The countless years she spent grasping for her dream now came another great leap closer to fruition.

No… on the contrary, it was already here. And it won't come about from a jump - she simply pressed against the pedal.

"Lion Paw Tankery Club, let's move out!"

The same grounds that bore witness to the opening ceremony now found itself the new home to a new gathering. Under the school emblem's silent watch did a sea of people surged like gentle waves as stands, booths, and hastily-formed stages pulled and stirred the traffic of feet. A throng of voices and chatter drowned the air as much as students did in the open space, all clamoring in fierce competition in the great arena that was the club fair.

"Itching for action? Think you have what it takes? The JROTC needs you!"
"Like to draw? Got a favorite animated show or movie? Come to the Animation Club to see your dreams come to life!"
"Check out the Astronomy Club! See the world, go star-gazing, have fun together!"
"Come join the Light Music Club! We even offer complementary tea and sweets!"

The calls and shouts all vied in a tangled tug-of-war that gave no quarter. Recognized organizations showcased all of their best traits; veteran members eyed every freshmen with hopeful glances to claim their allegiances and to compel them from the informal "Going Home Club" (also referred to as the "School Life Club"). There was a pool of talent and insight all ripe for the taking.

But eventually, a new sensation began to creep in.

Lurking beneath the cacophony was a discreet sound. Low and distant, it flew well under the veil of voices, camouflaged by volume. Yet as subtle as it was, the sound managed to be heard. The students could all feel in beneath their feet. They knew not where it came from, but one by one the loud calls began to die down. In their retreat, the sound grew louder.

The vibrations increased.

At first, the students in the grounds could not see what it was. But what they could see were those who did, their gazes in unison and shock immediate. The effect spread like a chain reaction before finally, emerging from around the corner came the catalyst. It trundled as a mass of blue seen only from faint memories of history unexpectedly rolling down the paved path. Like witnessing a mounted knight of yore, the Type 37 rolled straight out of history as it rumbled towards the club fair, blue steel inviting eyes as much as the glowing radiator did.

Speechless witnesses and passerbys all gawked at the tank, eagerly yielding the walkway to the mechanical beast as the treads rolled over to the tune of crunching gravel and squeaking hinges, pronounced even over the hum of the engine.

"Hey, step aside now! Beep-beep! Wide load, comin' through!" hollered Katrin who poked out of the hatch on the hull, urging the students and staff with frantic gestures. But verbal warnings proved redundant as everyone innately stepped aside as the tank rolled at walking speed.

Inside, Lipponen ensured that would be the case as she steered the vehicle, hands on the wheel and a gentle foot on the pedal. The awestruck looks and gaping jaws all around her were more than she expected and she couldn't hide her glee at the profound impact their appearance had already made. But with so many witnesses to revel in, Lipponen now had to contend with the body of human traffic that lay in her path - a critical factor she had overlooked. She drove with all due caution, taking care to monitor the pace of the thirty-plus ton vehicle. Compared to the blistering top speed the Type 37 was able to achieve, they were moving at a literal snail's pace.

Over the reverb of the engine, Lipponen could feel curious eyes behind her. A quick peek told her it was Daniel who sat still, wholly engrossed at her task despite the cramped confines he found himself in.

"Interested, Daniel?"

"Um, yeah," the boy nodded. "Is it any hard?"

"Not at all once you get the hang of the basics," the teacher replied. "Of course, you'd still need proper training before anyone can be allowed to drive a tank with any responsibility. A simple drive like this is easy but a skilled driver can practically make tanks dance! So if you'd like…"

"I-I'll think about it," Daniel answered.

Lipponen continued driving, turning the wheel as the tank gingerly turned a corner as another topic popped in her head. "So Daniel, where are you and Katrin from?"

The boy nervously scratched his hair at the question. "Um, Fouzen. N-near Fouzen actually. Not so close we had to deal with the pollution but even the outskirts had plenty of auto shops for Katrin and I to hang out in."

Lipponen nodded in understanding. "Thank you so much for fixing up the engine, by the way. Never expected a freshman to figure it out in short notice."

"Er, not a problem, Ms. Lipponen," Daniel blushed. "It was just interesting to see and tinker a bit with an actual ragnite engine. What I didn't expect was for it to be a turbine design, like what you'd expect from a boat or aircraft. Even when decades old the design is still familiar enough that I was able to fix it up real quick. With the displacement, this thing's got to have a serious grunt…"

The more she listened, the more impressed Lipponen felt. To hear genuine talent warmed her heart, knowing that her tankery dream acquired such promising members. She was almost moved to tears.

'Oh my, to think it would grow so much…'

"H-hey Ms. Lipponen, watch out!"

"O-oh whoops! Almost spaced out there. Sorry~!"

Stunned looks were like a mirror to Amelia. Through the vision slits she made out dozens of such expressions, on dozens of people that gaped at the tank. But unbeknownst to them, Amelia wondered if her own reaction mimicked theirs.

Even as she rode as a member of the tankery club, the tank continued to leave a strong impression on the girl. Even when the moment had long passed she found it hard to believe that such an old machine could return to life and deliver to them their grand debut at the school club fair.

And from the looks of things, their entrance had left an unforgettable impact even before they had arrived at their destination.

"So what's going on out there?" Abbie wondered aloud. "We there or what?"

"No not yet," Frederick called back. "But it does look like we've already made quite the show just by showing up," he added as he peered out from his hatch.

By contrast, Abbie lacked any means to view the outside world, a fact that contributed to her vexed groan. She turned back to gesture towards Amelia. "Hey Amy, let's swap seats. I wanna see the outside."

"Um, sure." Amelia began looking for a way to scoot aside before she faltered. "I… want to tell you two how sorry I am. For roping you here without your consent. I don't know how much you two know about tankery but I don't think it was something you wanted to be a part of…"

Frederick was taken aback as he and Abbie exchanged quick silent stares. But when he turned to face Amelia, he put on a warm a visage as he could. "It's not your fault, Amelia. You felt sorry for Ms. Lipponen and so you jumped in. Can't fault anyone for doing that."

"Yeah! Don't feel bad for helping someone out," Abbie reassured. "If you ask me, that actually took balls."

"And besides, what's done is done. A little thing like this is no reason to blame yourself for the past. And who knows, maybe tankery might be interesting."

"Yeah, choir club might've sucked."

Amelia was surprised to hear her friends' forgiveness, delivered with earnestness. Looking back, she did act without thinking, a spur of the moment borne from emotion. Without thought, she had neglected the needs of her friends. Had the circumstances be different, the harm she could have done haunted her. She counted herself rather fortunate in this case.

Of course, that's what friends are for after all.

The tank then lurched to a stop; the rumbling abated and the low droning of the engine stepped back from the muffled sounds of awe outside. Immediately the three realized what happened.

"We're here~!" Lipponen sang. Light filled her seat as she slipped out from the tank and one be one, the occupants all followed suit, rising from their hatches. Emerging from the tank, the tankery club found themselves engulfed by a mob of spectators. Once given respectful way, the tank found itself swarmed by the school's inhabitants. Camera phones stared at them as much as wide eyes, the whole student body seemingly upon five teens, a teacher, and their tank.

Amelia wavered from the too-many eyes that ogled at her even before the questions and murmurs began to flood in. She barely caught snippets of inquiries such as what that tank was, where it came from, what she could tell about it, who she was, her name, her interests and hobbies, what shampoo she uses…

Lipponen confronted the brunt of the crowd with enthusiastic vigor, her status as club advisor attracting inquisitive students like a magnet as she caroled their identity as the tankery club. Around the rear of the tank, Katrin and Daniel worked to ward curious guests away from the radiator, the blue hue dissipating but the heat remained far from simmering. Ragnite engines of this sort always necessitated an egress for excess heat, a trait intimately familiar in Europa even decades after the discovery of the precious but volatile blue crystals. It was the resource that made the world turn, fuel for every commodity from factories to weaponry to even medicine. It dictated history and even held the fates of nations. Even with the turbulent times behind them, ragnite remained a prominent power source, the blue glow the distinct giveaway of its value… and the role it played in its blood-stained history.

"Hey, easy now. The radiator's still gonna be hot. Don't touch it, ya'll!"
"In case anyone's wondering, yes it's an old ragnite engine. It gets awfully hot so don't get too close."

"I hear that right? An old ragnite engine?"

Above the din of voices and murmurs, Daniel glanced up to catch a pair of students approach, the speaker a slick-haired boy with a cloth wrapped around his right arm followed by a girl whose curly hair was kept subdued by a patterned bandana and her school blazer found itself home around her waist.

But a trait he immediately picked up was the tint of their hair. Dark purple, almost raven-black.

The boy donned a friendly smirk as he brushed his already-combed hair back. "Name's Zak. Zak Seamer."

"And I'm his sister Rachel," the other greeted heartily. "Sweet tank you got there. What's the specs?"

Daniel fumbled for a response. "U-uh if you're talking about the engine I can talk about that. F-from what I can tell it's got a serious turbine. Er, I reckon 800 horsepower if I'm not wrong. You can it whirr when you're inside…"

He chuckled nervously but the Seamer siblings smiled in good spirits. Darcsens weren't an anomaly to Daniel or anyone in Gallia but their distinguishing mark of purple hair always made them stand out, second to their cultural pattern often sewn on cloth or accessory. The ancient tradition of stigma against the Darcsen people, dating back almost to the realm of myth, was well-known. Society had long grown to be suspicious of the people supposedly responsible for a great Calamity that ruined the continent, a system perpetuated by embellishments and conditioned prejudice. Long had such people been targets of leery eyes and slander, victims of forced labor and pogroms at worst.

It was said that history was written by the victors but as the years went by it was discovered that history was also filled with falsehoods. Eventually, the years of bigotry soon had to give way to a world that refused to sit still, and those once denied their right as equals now claimed a home in a more tolerant, changed society. A world where folklore and stigma could finally be left in the past in favor of a brighter future.

The Seamers standing before him were proof of that.

Rachel whistled an impressed note. "Well goddamn that thing's packin'. Even if it looks like something that rolled out of a scrapyard, I'm jealous that you get to tinker with that."

"Not unless we get a piece of the action," Zak drawled as he stroked his chin. "Could've settled with the robotics club, but I think tankery might be more my calling. Always nice to meet another gearhead, uh…"

It took Daniel an awkward second to comprehend the request. "Uh D-Daniel Czherny."

A hand was offered as Zak smiled with a warm wink. "Nice to meet ya Daniel. Be seeing you soon."

"See you later, Daniel," Rachel added, throwing in her own wink along with a girly salute as she and her brother slipped back into the crowd.

The questions and clamor never ceased on Amelia's side. Even with Frederick and Lipponen by her side, the tide remained daunting. As much as their advisor indulged in the moment to broadcast for members and exposure, the tank had proven to be the true star of the show - perhaps a little too successful. Even through the thicket of heads and voices she caught confirmed glimpses of the school's Newspaper Club scouring their image with their lenses.

"Hey playa what you gonna get for tank-ry? Girl what you gonna get that tank~? (Come on, let's go!)
Look here metal head here's the deal, in tankery you gotta keep it real
I'ma go rock out in a house 'o steel and when I kick back I wanna see
A pound of dirt beneath the the tracks of black with the big bad shooty gun you left for me…"

Frederick peered behind him. "Abbie, you actually mind helping us out down here?"

Abbie paused singing, the swinging of her feet ceased as she glanced down from the top of the tank. "C'mon Freddie, it's called marketing. Can't let the tank do all the advertising, you know!"

To that Amelia could only give a nervous smile. "T-that may be true but-"

"Ah-ha! It's you fiends!"

She spun around to find herself in the sights of a peculiar speaker, her presence noticeable from the crowd thanks to her silver twintails that exuded pomposity. Coming close, Amelia could see this particular student with frills and ribbons on her uniform and faint traces of earrings and makeup - whoever she was, she practically choke on the air of self-importance.

A finger with a sharp colored nail lanced out, accompanying the new challenger as she continued. "So you must be the head honcho behind my upstaging! Now listen here, you tankery buffoons! You may have won today's spotlight, but know that I, Annabelle Victoria Nelson, shall not let this slide! You hear me?! You will rue the day you robbed the Theatre Club of our glory!"

Amelia flinched from the overbearing aura of the newcomer, but was saved by the timely intervention of a flowing yellow dress bumping into view. "Hi there! I'm Ms. Lipponen, advisor to the brand-new tankery club! Would you by chance be interested? We're always hungry for new members, new talents!"

"U-um, Ms. Lipponen, I don't think she's…"

The girl who proclaimed herself Annabelle faltered her advance, now her turn to recoil from a brand new presence. Whether it was Lipponen's own appearance or her status as a teacher that made her unable to confront, it was clear that Annabelle had to fold.

She brushed her hair back before departing with a haughty scoff, her unamused stare fixated on the club members. "Hmph. Until next time. Prepare yourself, for I Annabelle Victoria Nelson shall prevail in the end! Oh-hohohoho…!" And like that, Annabelle strutted away before slipping out of sight behind a confused and amused audience, her exaggerated laughter echoing until it blended into the background.

Amelia was left blinking as the encounter ended, her mind continuing to draw blanks. "Um… what?"

"I wouldn't worry," Frederick muttered. "Drama queen…"

She conceded with a nod, not fully understanding the situation. Amelia knew not who that particular student was but with a name like that, she doubt she'd forget such a person. Such an unmistakable appearance demanded an equally memorable impression. A part of her figured that this was Annabelle Nelson's defining essence.

And part of her suspected that this might not be the last time they'll meet, if her parting words held any bite.

In the interior of the school, a great fabricator whirred tirelessly. Armatures and pressers stamped in routine motion, delivering the assembled product onto a conveyor. The rollers became a sea of paper, the school newspaper fresh off the press. They streamed through in a blur, disappearing just as quickly to be spread and disseminated like a river delta, onto the vast sea that was the avid readers.

Fans of all type consumed the latest edition; as a medium of communication they all did. Their well of knowledge came from the papers they read, collating the latest from all across the campus. From official announcements to the latest gossip, all were put to print for all to read.

But what caught all eyes was the main article, the main attraction that adorned the front cover of every newspaper, in almost every hand that walked the halls of Lion Paw school. A wide-shot captured during the recent club fair, the content nearly bursting from the upright frame of the magazine. Even the object that was to be the focus could hardly fit within the picture, a great blue behemoth mobbed by a crowd unlike any seen in the history of the school. From the way the picture was captured, the only faces seen were those that belonged to the giant: a tall firm boy, a teacher in yellow, a red-haired girl sitting atop, a boy and a girl just out of frame protecting the mechanical beast from intruding hands, and in the middle of it all a girl with a red bandana.

Above the picture, surpassing even the series title, were the bold words that immortalized the moment captured onto paper.

Lion Paw Club Fair: Tank Goodness, What a Debut!

The same image everywhere one looked. Whispers circulated just as much as the newest issue did. Words etched into memory just as much as it did in ink. A copy in almost every hand.

Including Amelia's.

As she lay on her bed, grateful for the well-deserved rest, a smile crept wide on her weary face. She held the magazine up high as though it were a trophy. Her eyes scoured the cover once, twice, thrice, and more. She peered over the image snapped on that day, seeing her club members, friends, and herself to the point of memorization. Yet the picture continued to excite her.

She could still hardly believe that the day was not yet over. The Newspaper Club apparently worked swiftly that day, their energy in stark contrast to the exhaustion she and no doubt the others felt coming out of that event. Wanting nothing more than to laze in her dorm room, Amelia was glad that the club fair was finally over.

But she was more glad of the results that came out of it.

As she rested with a grin, she looked forward to the exciting development that awaited them.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For a second chapter, this took quite a while to write. Had to undergo a few rewrites because I wasn't satisfied with how the garage scene and the introduction of Daniel and Katrin was developing. Early takes had that scene go longer than I would have liked, coupled with how their inclusion into the club and their exploration of the tank's inside often turned out clunky. Nevertheless, I think the current version is sufficient at introducing them and getting the plot moving along.

Now, for anyone familiar with VC lore, the idea of Darcsens now having last names might raise some eyebrows. However, it was something I thought would further convey the sense that this is a changed VC world, one unlike the one we're shown from the games (Valkyria Revolution doesn't count). Although it was customary for Darcsens to not have last names (unless adopted), I figured it would be a matter of time or extraneous circumstances for that trend to change, even if it could have be adapted as some form of tradition. I've had a discussion of this sort of thing with another VC author and we've reached a similar consensus. Regardless, I hope this change isn't too off-putting.