Chapter Text
Scotland: Highlanders Academy
The next day, Tyrone stepped off the transport vehicle onto the grounds of Highlanders Academy (H.L.A.), his boots crunching against the gravel. The brisk Scottish air hit him immediately, carrying the scent of pine and the faint tang of distant seawater. Highlanders Academy was perched atop a rugged hill, its buildings blending seamlessly with the ancient stone architecture of Scotland. Battle-worn British WWII tanks lined the motor pool, their gleaming surfaces adorned with traditional Scottish designs—clan crests, Celtic knots, and the occasional thistle motif.
In the center of the parade ground stood Isla Alisa Loughty, the fiery 4'7" commander of H.L.A.
Her signature ginger curls bounced wildly as she barked orders at a group of students. Clad in the academy's dark green and black uniform with a tartan sash thrown over her shoulder, Isla was a commanding presence despite her diminutive stature. Her emerald eyes glimmered with excitement as Tyrone approached.
"Well, if it isn't the Vice-Commander o' Liberty Prime!" Isla called out, her Scottish brogue as thick as the morning mist. "Welcome tae Highlanders Academy, lad!"
Tyrone grinned, offering a casual salute. "Thanks for having me, Commander Loughty. Gotta say, your place looks straight out of a medieval war movie. Nice touch."
"'Course it does! We Scots know how tae mix history with a bit o' chaos," Isla replied, her voice carrying an unmistakable pride. "Now come on, we've got tanks tae show off."
Isla led Tyrone through the academy grounds, rattling off tank specs and strategies with unbridled enthusiasm. The H.L.A. tanks were a mix of restored British WWII models like the Churchill, Cromwell, and Matilda II, as well as modern additions like the Challenger 2. What caught Tyrone's attention, however, was the Vikings Tank Division (H.L.A.V.T.D.)—a group of students donning war paint, Viking helmets, and carrying swords and axes. They were loud, intimidating, and looked like they were ready to storm a battlefield at any moment.
"Your Viking crew," Tyrone said, nodding toward the rowdy group, "looks like they'd fit right in with the Léo Major Academy Devil's Tank Division."
Isla laughed heartily. "Aye, they're a wee bit wild, but that's what makes 'em so effective. They don't just fight tae win—they fight tae conquer."
Tyrone smirked. "I respect that."
As they continued the tour, Isla couldn't help but steer the conversation toward Anthony. "So, how's yer Overall Commander doing these days? Still brooding an' mysterious, is he?"
Tyrone chuckled, catching the faint blush creeping up Isla's cheeks. "Oh, you know Ant. He's either saving the day or stuck under a mountain of paperwork. Why?"
Isla quickly shook her head, her curls bouncing. "No reason! Just curious, that's all."
Tyrone smirked, deciding to let her off the hook. "Sure, Commander. Whatever you say."
Meanwhile at L.P.U.A.
Back in Virginia, Anthony was not having a good day. Sitting at his desk in the administrative building, he stared at the stack of paperwork in front of him, rubbing his temples in frustration. To his left was a report from the U.S. Navy, apologizing for the "accidental deployment" of Liberty Prime's school aircraft carrier. Apparently, the ship had been commandeered for a training exercise, leaving L.P.U.A. students confused and scrambling to adjust their schedules.
To his right was an even more aggravating report: four M1A2 Abrams SEPv3 tanks had been damaged during a training exercise. Specifically, someone had bent the turret barrels—bent them. Anthony didn't even want to know how that was possible.
The worst part? His sisters—Leah, Imani, Ann, and Harriet—had already read the reports and were not taking it well.
"WHO BENDS FOUR TURRET BARRELS?!" Harriet's voice boomed through the office as she paced back and forth, her fists clenched.
"Honestly, how does the Navy just take an aircraft carrier?" Ann added, throwing her hands up in disbelief.
Imani, sitting on the couch with her arms crossed, shook her head. "It's incompetence at the highest level."
Leah, leaning against the doorframe, simply sighed. "Anthony, you're the Overall Commander. What's the plan?"
Anthony leaned back in his chair, his expression calm despite the chaos around him. "First, we get the tanks fixed. Second, we find out who's responsible for the barrels and make sure it doesn't happen again. And third, we remind the Navy that they don't just get to 'borrow' our stuff."
Harriet snorted. "You're way too calm about this."
Anthony smirked faintly. "I have to be. Otherwise, I'd lose it."
As the day wore on, Anthony managed to work through most of the paperwork, though the frustration lingered. Sitting in his office, he glanced at the framed photo on his desk—a picture of him and his sisters during their first Tankery match. It was a reminder of why he put up with the headaches and chaos that came with being the Overall Commander.Back in Scotland
As the sun set over Highlanders Academy, Tyrone and Isla stood on the observation deck overlooking the motor pool. The sound of tanks rumbling below created a comforting hum as Isla leaned on the railing, her emerald eyes sparkling.
"You've got a good thing going here, Isla," Tyrone said, breaking the silence. "Your team's tough, your tactics are solid, and you've got the passion to back it up."
Isla smiled, her cheeks tinged with pink. "Thanks, Tyrone. That means a lot, especially coming from someone on Liberty Prime's team."
Tyrone chuckled. "Hey, credit where it's due. You've earned it."
For a moment, Isla hesitated, then asked, "Do you think Anthony knows... you know... about me?"
Tyrone raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Knows what?"
Isla huffed, crossing her arms. "You know exactly what I mean, Tyrone!"
Tyrone grinned, shrugging. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."
Isla groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Why do I even bother?"
As the evening came to a close, Tyrone joined the H.L.A. students for a celebratory dinner, complete with traditional Scottish dishes and music. Though he missed the chaos back at L.P.U.A., he couldn't deny that the fiery spirit of Highlanders Academy left a lasting impression.
Before he left, Isla handed him a small box. "For Anthony," she said, her voice quieter than usual. "Just... don't make a big deal out of it."
Tyrone smirked, slipping the box into his bag. "You got it, Commander."
As the transport pulled away from the academy, Tyrone leaned back in his seat, already anticipating Anthony's reaction when he handed over Isla's gift. One thing was certain—life at Liberty Prime was never boring.
Additional info
Isla Alisa Loughty, a spirited and proud 17-year-old Scottish girl from Edinburgh, leads Highlanders Academy (H.L.A), Scotland's top Tankery school. With a passion for tanks sparked by a visit to Japan at the age of 9, she returned to Scotland determined to bring the art of Sensha-Dō to her homeland. Thanks to her government connections and fierce national pride, she played a vital role in establishing the school, which incorporates a blend of modern and World War II tactics. Isla's larger-than-life personality, love for her Scottish heritage, and absolute obsession with tanks make her a force to be reckoned with. Despite her tomboyish nature, Isla is secretly a romantic, harboring a massive crush on Anthony Grant, the Overall Commander of L.P.U.A.
Highlanders Academy uses British WWII tanks but isn't constrained by Japanese Tankery Federation rules, allowing them to mix old-school tank warfare with modern-day tactics. Isla became the Overall Commander of H.L.A at just 14, thanks to her extraordinary leadership skills. H.L.A's Vikings Tank Division (H.L.A.V.T.D) is known for their brutality, fighting with war paint, Viking helmets, and real weapons (swords and axes), taking POWs during matches, which pushes their reputation for being extreme.
Throughout intense battles with top schools like Liberty Prime University Academy (USA), United Federation Tankery Academy (Russia), Häyhä Academy (Finland), and Illustrados Union Academy (Philippines), Isla leads her team with pride, never backing down even when they lose. Her loud and spirited personality shines in every battle, and her affection for Anthony Grant—runs deep, though she hides her feelings behind her fierce attitude.
Isla Alisa Loughty was the pride of Highlanders Academy—its Overall Commander and a walking tank encyclopedia. With her curly ginger hair flying wildly behind her, her emerald eyes gleaming with excitement, and her short, curvy frame standing no taller than 4'7", Isla was impossible to miss. Tank nerd by nature, warrior by heart, she ruled the battlefield, roaring in victory and never holding back, not even during practice.
Isla's obsession with tanks began when she was just 9. A summer visit to Japan introduced her to the world of Sensha-Dō, and she watched in awe as tanks rolled across the battlefield in perfect coordination. The thunder of cannons, the screech of tracks grinding against the earth—each moment etched into her memory. She had found her calling, and it was in the driver's seat of a tank.
It was during that trip she met Yukari Akiyama, a fellow tank nerd. The two of them hit it off immediately, bonding over their love of WWII tank specs, the mechanics of armoring, and war history. But when Isla returned to Scotland, she was hit with a hard reality. Sensha-Dō was mostly a Japanese thing. That didn't sit well with her Scottish pride. She wasn't about to let Japan have all the fun while Scotland remained on the sidelines.
'Scotland's got history! We've got tanks, damn it!'
She wasn't going to take it lying down, not a chance in hell. She approached her uncle, a high-ranking official in the Scottish government, and with her fiery determination, convinced him to support her vision of bringing Tankery to Scotland. By the time she was 14, Highlanders Academy, or H.L.A, opened its doors, funded by the British government, its education system, and the British Armed Forces. Isla, of course, was named Overall Commander on day one. Her leadership style was loud, intense, and unapologetically Scottish.