The cobblestone streets leading to Accademia di Carri Armati d'Italia (Italian Tankery Academy) were bathed in golden sunlight as Anthony and Tyrone's car approached the entrance. The Italian Tankery school, located in the heart of Tuscany, was renowned for its flair, creativity, and a touch of theatrical drama in its matches. The academy's sprawling grounds boasted elegant Renaissance-style architecture, blending history with the modern machinery of Tankery.

Anthony, seated comfortably in the back seat, glanced at Tyrone, who was adjusting the straps of his Improved Outer Tactical Vest (IOTV) over his Woodland BDU uniform.

The bulky Kevlar gear stood out against the polished leather seats of the car, and Anthony couldn't help but smirk.

"You look ridiculous," Anthony said, raising an eyebrow.

Tyrone shot him a look, tugging the vest tighter. "Man, you can laugh all you want, but I'm not taking any chances. Last time, that girl nearly tackled me into a trench."

Anthony chuckled. "You mean Serafina Rossi? Lorenzo's Vice-Commander?"

Author's Note: Lorenzo if you're reading this, it'll change after 30 chapters.

"The one and only," Tyrone muttered, shaking his head. "I swear, she's like a homing missile. And she's chubby! How does she move so fast?"

Anthony smirked, turning to glance out the window. "At least she keeps you on your toes. Look on the bright side—you're memorable."

"Yeah, memorable like a bad rash," Tyrone muttered, adjusting the vest one last time. "I just hope Lorenzo keeps her on a leash this time."

The car pulled into the academy's main courtyard, where a crowd of students and officers awaited. At the forefront was Lorenzo Ferrari, the 16-year-old Overall Commander of the Italian Tankery school.

Standing at 6'1" with neatly combed blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and a pair of thin glasses perched on his nose, Lorenzo was the epitome of calm confidence. His olive-green uniform was pristine, and his demeanor radiated a mix of charm and intelligence.

"Anthony!" Lorenzo greeted warmly, extending his hand as the two commanders stepped out of the car. "It's been too long, my friend!"

Anthony shook his hand firmly, a genuine smile on his face. "Lorenzo. It's good to see you again. Thanks for having us."

Lorenzo turned to Tyrone, his grin widening. "Vice-Commander Williams. You're looking... prepared."

Tyrone gave him a sheepish grin, patting his vest. "Gotta stay ready, man. You know how it is."

Before Lorenzo could reply, a high-pitched voice cut through the crowd. "TYRONE!"

Tyrone froze, his eyes widening as a short, chubby figure barreled through the group of students like a wrecking ball. Serafina Rossi, clad in the same olive-green uniform as Lorenzo but with a slightly more disheveled look, made a beeline for Tyrone, her face lighting up with pure excitement.

"Oh, hell no," Tyrone muttered, taking a step back.

Anthony folded his arms, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle as Serafina threw herself at Tyrone, arms outstretched. Tyrone braced himself, his IOTV taking the brunt of the impact as she hugged him tightly, her head barely reaching his chest.

"Tyrone!" Serafina squealed, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes. "You're here! I knew you'd come back to me!"

Lorenzo pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something in rapid Italian. "Serafina, for the love of God, give the man some space."

"But he's my amore!" Serafina protested, clinging to Tyrone like a lifeline.

Tyrone, clearly used to this by now, gently pried her arms off and took a careful step back. "Serafina, it's, uh, great to see you too. How've you been?"

"I've been waiting for you," she said dreamily, clasping her hands together. "Every day since our last match, I've dreamed of this moment."

Lorenzo sighed heavily, muttering, "How does she even pass the physical exams?"

Anthony leaned over, smirking. "She's got spirit, I'll give her that."

As the group made their way through the academy, Lorenzo led the tour with his usual charm, gesturing to the various facilities. The Italian Tankery school, much like its reputation, was full of flair—ornate murals depicting historical battles adorned the walls, and the motor pool was as much an art gallery as a garage, with tanks painted in vibrant colors and intricate designs.

"This is the heart of Italian Tankery," Lorenzo said proudly, gesturing to a row of modified P26/40s and modern Ariete tanks. "Speed, creativity, and a touch of drama—that's how we do things here."

Tyrone nodded appreciatively. "I'll admit, your tanks are flashy. I like it."

Serafina, walking far too close to Tyrone for comfort, chimed in. "Tyrone, you should come drive one with me! We'd make a perfect team."

Tyrone gave her a polite smile. "Maybe next time."

Anthony and Lorenzo exchanged amused glances as they continued the tour. Despite the antics, the Italian school's focus on innovation and adaptability was impressive, and Anthony couldn't help but admire Lorenzo's leadership.

Later, the group gathered in the academy's outdoor dining area, where a feast of traditional Italian dishes awaited. The atmosphere was relaxed, with laughter and conversation filling the air. Lorenzo and Anthony sat at one end of the table, deep in discussion about Tankery tactics.

"Your approach is fascinating," Lorenzo said, twirling his fork in a plate of spaghetti. "The way you blend modern technology with traditional strategies—it's unconventional, but it works."

Anthony nodded. "It's all about balance. You can't rely too heavily on one or the other. And your school's focus on speed and precision is impressive. It's something we're trying to incorporate more into our own strategies."

Meanwhile, at the other end of the table, Tyrone was trying to navigate his conversation with Serafina, who was perched on the edge of her seat, hanging on his every word.

"You know," she said, her voice sugary sweet, "I've been working on my driving skills. Maybe next time we could have a match and I'll show you how much I've improved—for you."

Tyrone chuckled nervously, glancing at Anthony for backup. "Yeah, uh, that sounds great."

Anthony smirked, raising his glass in a silent toast to Tyrone's predicament.

As the evening came to a close, Lorenzo walked Anthony and Tyrone back to their car. The stars above cast a soft glow over the academy, and the air was filled with the faint sounds of laughter and music from the dining area.

"Anthony," Lorenzo said, clasping his friend's hand. "Thank you for visiting. It's always a pleasure to exchange ideas with someone who truly understands the spirit of Tankery."

"The pleasure's mine," Anthony replied. "Your school has a lot to teach us, and I hope we can continue learning from each other."

Lorenzo turned to Tyrone, a sly grin on his face. "And you, my friend, have made quite the impression—again."

Tyrone groaned, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Serafina wasn't lurking nearby. "Yeah, thanks for that."

As the car pulled away, Anthony leaned back in his seat, a faint smile on his lips. "Well, that was... eventful."

Tyrone, slumped against the door, muttered, "Next time, I'm bringing riot gear."

Anthony laughed, shaking his head. "You wouldn't survive Tankery without me, man."

Tyrone grinned despite himself. "You're not wrong."