The faint glow of the moon filtered through the blinds, casting slanted lines across Anthony's sparsely decorated dorm room. His desk, neatly organized with papers, notebooks, and a few small personal items, sat opposite his neatly made bed. His T30 model tank was perched on the corner of the desk, a silent reminder of the responsibilities he bore. The digital clock beside his bed blinked 3:14 AM in bold red numbers when a loud knock echoed through the room.

Anthony groaned, running a hand over his face as he sat up. He was dressed in loose black sweatpants and a white tank top, his muscular frame shifting with irritation. Another knock followed, more urgent this time.

"Who the hell is it?" he growled, rolling out of bed and striding to the door.

When he yanked it open, he was greeted by the sight of a young Marine in the distinctive uniform of the L.P.U.A. Marine Corps College Regiment. The Marine snapped to attention, his face pale but determined despite the late hour.

"Commander Grant, sir," the Marine began, his voice tight with urgency. "We've apprehended a Chinese spy."

Anthony's dark brown eyes narrowed dangerously. "A spy?" His tone was low, almost a growl, as his brain worked quickly to process the information. "Where?"

"They were caught snooping near the motor pool, sir. The Marines detained them and brought them to the underground holding cell. They're... resistant, but we've, uh, made sure they're compliant."

Anthony's jaw tightened, but he nodded sharply. "Give me a minute."

Minutes later, Anthony walked briskly through the dimly lit hallways of the underground detention area beneath L.P.U.A.'s main complex. The air was cooler here, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows on the concrete walls. The sound of his boots echoed with each step, accompanied by the Marine, who trailed nervously behind him.

The underground prison wasn't officially listed as part of the academy's facilities. It was built as part of the Marine Corps Division's more... unique operations, meant for capturing and interrogating opponents during matches. However, it was rarely used for anything more serious than detaining trespassers.

As Anthony approached the holding cells, he could hear murmurs of conversation and the faint scuffle of boots. Two Marines stood at attention outside the heavy steel door, their expressions stiffening as Anthony approached. One of them saluted sharply.

"The spy is inside, Commander," the Marine said.

Anthony nodded, gesturing for the door to be opened.

Inside the cell, the air was heavier, carrying the faint metallic scent of blood and sweat. The spy sat slumped in a chair in the middle of the room, their wrists cuffed to the metal arms. A single bare bulb swung above, casting flickering light across their battered face. The spy, a young Chinese woman in her early twenties, glared defiantly at Anthony as he entered. Her lip was split, and bruises dotted her sharp cheekbones, evidence of a scuffle with the Marines.

Anthony's eyes flicked to the two Marines standing on either side of the spy, their uniforms slightly disheveled from the struggle. He crossed his arms, his imposing frame casting a long shadow over the seated figure.

"So," Anthony began, his voice calm but cold. "You thought you could sneak into my academy and get away with it?"

The spy didn't respond, her dark eyes locking onto his with a mixture of defiance and calculation.

One of the Marines stepped forward, his voice tense. "Sir, we caught her near the motor pool. She had a device—probably for taking pictures—but she smashed it before we could secure it. She's been uncooperative ever since."

Anthony tilted his head, his gaze never leaving the spy. "Did she say anything?"

"Nothing useful, sir. Just kept speaking Mandarin. We didn't understand a word of it."

Anthony exhaled slowly, his hands resting on the back of the chair opposite the spy. He leaned forward slightly, his dark brown eyes boring into hers. "You're in no position to play games," he said, his tone low and menacing. "You're going to tell me who sent you, what you were looking for, and why you thought you'd get away with it."

The spy smirked faintly, her lips curling despite the obvious pain. She spoke in Mandarin, her voice soft but mocking.

Anthony straightened, his expression unreadable. To the surprise of everyone in the room, he responded fluently in the same language.

"{You think this is a joke? Let me make one thing clear: I don't play games, and I don't lose. Now, tell me who sent you, or I'll make sure you regret coming here.}"

The spy's smirk faltered, her confidence visibly shaken by his fluency. She hesitated, glancing at the Marines flanking her before returning her gaze to Anthony.

"{You can't stop what's coming,}" she said finally. "{Red Banner Academy is just the beginning.}"

Anthony's jaw tightened, but he gave no outward sign of frustration. Instead, he stepped back, his voice calm but firm. "Keep her here. No one gets in or out without my permission. I'll deal with this later."

As he turned to leave, the spy called after him, her voice laced with venom. "{You're already too late.}"

Anthony paused for a brief moment, his shoulders tense, before continuing out the door.

Back in the command room, Anthony paced the floor, his mind racing. Tyrone leaned casually against the wall, a mug of coffee in one hand and a raised eyebrow aimed at Anthony.

"So," Tyrone drawled, "what's the verdict? Is she just a wannabe, or do we have a real problem on our hands?"

"She's real," Anthony said without hesitation. "Too confident, too prepared. She's not just some random spy—they sent her here for a reason."

Tyrone took a sip of his coffee, his sharp mind already working through the implications. "Probably scoping us out for weaknesses. Red Banner doesn't like surprises, and we're about as unconventional as it gets. Makes sense they'd send someone to peek behind the curtain."

Anthony stopped pacing, his fists clenching at his sides. "If they're willing to go this far, they're planning something big. We need to tighten security. Double the guards at the motor pool and increase patrols around the campus. I don't want anyone getting within a hundred feet of our tanks without clearance."

Tyrone nodded, his usual relaxed demeanor giving way to a rare seriousness. "You got it. I'll make sure the Marines are on it."

Anthony sat heavily in his chair, his hands steepled under his chin. The match against Red Banner Academy was no longer just about Tankery—it was becoming a battle of wills, a clash of ideologies.

And Anthony had no intention of losing.