Harry Potter & the Shipgirls

[darthcourt10]

Savato93

It was odd, the difference having company made when wandering the seas.

The destroyer had been sailing with her tentative new flagship for about a week now. It hadn't been too much of a change from her prior routine—she pretty much spent the days sailing across this vast blue plain, occasionally diverting course to bomb schools of fish to eat, and spending the nights resting. The only real change… was that she was doing so while following a scarred Re-class battleship around.

The Re-class was… odd. For a Re-class, at least. For someone who wanted company so badly when they met, she wasn't very talkative. At most, she occasionally checked in with the destroyer; asking if she was okay, if she was hungry, if she needed to rest. It was admittedly a breath of fresh air, having a flagship that cared about her like this. However, she couldn't get more than a sentence or two from the Re-class whenever she tried to chat. From what she gathered from her old fleet, the Re-classes that didn't kill you on sight were supposed to be energetic and sociable. Even if she'd been obviously through the wringer, the destroyer was still expecting her flagship to at least be a little peppy.

But that wasn't the oddest thing about her.

"You REALLY don't want to sleep? Have me take watch?"

The Re-class shook her head. "N-no. No… it's fine. Not tired."

She was insomniac. Lacking a landmass to take refuge, the pair had connected themselves with tethers for the previous nights, to prevent from drifting away from one another as they slept. Or rather, SHE slept—the Re-class was determined to keep watch over them during the night. She said she didn't need to stop, let herself sleep for a little bit, but the bags under her eyes and her lack of energy at all times of the day made it clear she was lying.

But why? Was it paranoia? Nightmares? Simply bad experiences sleeping adrift? Whatever the case, the Re-class was running herself ragged, and in her state that was a bad thing. She couldn't afford to have her new flagship making a bad decision in a sleep-deprived delirium and getting them killed.

"Do you think I'm not good to watch for us?" She said. "That's not true. I've been out here myself for a while. I know how to look out for trouble."

The Re-class shook her head more fervently. "No, no, no… Doggy doesn't understand…" she hugged herself lightly. "When… when I sleep… bad things happen."

That… didn't rule out any of her possibilities. "What kind of bad things?"

The Re-class rubbed her temples. "I… can't tell. Don't know… how to explain."

Wait, she didn't even know herself why she couldn't sleep? This wouldn't do. "Look, you're my flagship. I'll listen to you and follow you around, because you're nice to me, and will protect me. But no sleep is bad for you! You need to get shut-eye before you do something stupid!"

The Re-class blinked. She looked down at the water. "But… I…"

"You don't need to worry about anything. I'll watch over us both! Just rest, let me take watch for tonight. I promise you'll be okay."

The Re-class was silent for a long time. Eventually, she looked back up, at the destroyer, uncertain. "…o-okay."

And so, night came. The Re-class laid on the water's surface, head resting against her tail. Their tether, a cord wrapped around her wrist, bound her to the destroyer with roughly a kilometer of leeway. The destroyer was on full alert; pinging the sea around them with her sonar, scanning the skies with her optics, keeping an ear to her radio for chatter. She said she'd watch over the two of them, and she was damn well going to do just that—she wasn't about to give her flagship a reason to stop treating her well.

For hours, she remained vigilant, scouring the world around her with all her senses. For hours, she found nothing.

And then, at 0315, she heard something. Not with her radio, but her own ears.

Whining.

The destroyer turned back to her flagship, confused. The Re-class was squirming and quivering where she lay, her tail writhing underneath her head. Her face was twisted into a rictus of fear and pain, her teeth grit and tears building in her tightly-shut eyes. "…no…" she whispered, just barely audible over the waves around her. "…please… no…"

Concerned, the destroyer turned and drifted back towards her flagship. Was this what she was talking about? Some sort of nightmare? She wished she could just leave the Re-class be, let her try to work through it, get her full night's rest… but something about her agitation didn't seem right. Coming to a stop next to her, she moved to nudge her with her bow. "Uh… Flagship…? Are you…ok—"

At her touch, the Re-class's eyes shot open.

And she screamed.

This was no natural scream, a girl's simple shriek of terror and agony. This was the scream of a being whose every aspect had been devastated, ripped apart, the scraps shoddily reassembled in the shape of what used to be. Her heart, mind and soul, all violated at the deepest level by something truly, unspeakably wrong.

This was the scream of something fundamentally broken.

The destroyer jerked back as the Re-class thrashed on the water's surface, sending gouts of water into the air with her movements, screaming all the while. After several seconds, however, the wild motion and noise quickly came to a stop. The water settled to reveal the Re-class curled up on herself, trembling and gasping for breath. "No more… no more…" she whispered to herself.

"What… what was that!?" the destroyer asked. "What happened to you!?"

The Re-class slowly lifted her head, her glazed eyes gradually coming to focus on the destroyer. "I… I told you. I can't… I can't s-sleep." She whimpered weakly. "Ever. Dreams… full of darkness. Death. Pain. So much pain."

"…I'm sorry." The destroyer said quietly, stunned. "I didn't know… that it was that bad…"

"N-no… no, no, no…" Rising to her knees, the Re-class crawled up to the destroyer, shaking as she pressed up against her side. "You're… you're a good girl… thinking for… my health. It's… it's my fault… for being broken." Despite the tears streaming down her face, she tried her best to give the destroyer a smile. "I'm s-sorry. Sorry f-for being s-such a… a useless…" she never finished her statement, breaking down sobbing.

This was her fault. She pushed the Re-class into sleeping; pushed her right into the nightmares she was trying so hard to escape. Her flagship tried to tell her sleep was bad for her, but she insisted—and now her trauma was out in the open. The Re-class didn't deserve that… not after the kindness she'd shown her.

She had to make it up to her.

And so, the destroyer sat there until the sun rose, unmoving; her flagship lying against her, wailing in anguish. There was no more sleep for either of them, that night—or the next several nights, for that matter. She was here to give the Re-class company, after all—it was only fair that she work overtime, after forcing her flagship to experience… whatever haunted her dreams, once again.

There was a single question burning in the destroyer's mind, throughout all of it:

Just what had happened to her flagship, to turn her into THIS?

…

The destroyer never noticed it, discounting it as just another one among the dozens already present on her flagship's stomach… a long, ragged scar, fresher than the others.

A scar that, minutes ago, did not exist.

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Standing at the door into the basement, known also as "Lily's Workshop", James pressed his ear against the door and listened. After all, he knew better then to barge in on her when she was in one of her odd moods. Sirius had once described Lily as bring insanely brilliant as well as brilliantly insane. In private though, he told James though that sometimes he thought that Lily was just insane.

And there were times that James was hard pressed to argue that fact. Love her, he truly, deeply did. With all his heart as a matter of fact. But he also had seen her when she was in something of a fey mood working on something. The last time that he had interrupted her, it had blown up and next thing he knew was that he was a part deer girl. Lily had not really complained all that much though, despite his own complaints. Granted, that night she had made it up to him, or rather her at the time. Also, she turned Sirius into a dog girl for laughing at James.

Though sometimes James really got a craving for salt.

Besides that, there were other times when one of Lily's projects got out of hand. Or, any god forbid, when her and Alice got together and started to work on things. Especially if they were bored. One was bad enough, both together lead to... strange and frightening things happening. The sort of things that were right out of a movie. Both him and Frank still got the willies from the memory of that odd plant-dragon thing that Lily and Alice grew. The image of the female Longbottom stroking the bottom jaw of the chimera and cooing at it as if it was a cute baby was disturbing.

Granted, they were thankful that the creature grew to like the taste of Inferi, so there was that. The acid... they would have rather not dealt with though. Most definitely with how it was able to melt its way through steel plate.
However, listening, James could hear the sound of tools and grunts from Lily. Slowly, gently, he opened the door and walked down into the basement with care. At seeing the car, he relaxed some. "Hey, Lils."

Looking up from where she was working on it, Lily grinned at him. The image of her covered in oil, grease, and the like would have been off putting for other men. But to James? It made her beautiful, especially due to her smile. "Yes? Is something wrong?"

Glancing at the back seat of the car, the Potter head considered asking if she wanted to try that out, but then shook it off. Instead, he cleared his throat. "Lily flower, its time for dinner."

With a blink, Lily looked at the clock on the wall and blinked. "Huh, so it is." Tapping her chin, she gave a shrug. "Let me finish this little bit and I'll be right up."

Only nodding, James walked the rest of the way down the stairs and leaned against the wall to watch. He did raise one eyebrow as she muttered about mechanisms though and gave the Aston Martin a once over. For some odd reason, his wife had to have one. "So... what are you working on?"

Lily hummed some with her head in the guts of the car as she summoned a tool to her hand. "Hooking up the machine guns."

Slowly, James nodded at that. 'Hooking up the machine guns, huh? That makes sense-' His thoughts screeched to a halt and he looked at Lily before commenting with a strong voice. Not a weak one, never one as he was a man! "Machine... guns?"

The red head gave a sound of acknowledgment to that. "Of course! Wouldn't be a proper modified Aston Martin without them."

Part of James really, really did not want to know. However, his mouth was already moving when he decided on this fact. "Really?"

Bringing her head out, Lily gave a grin before wagging a finger at him. "'Course, Jamsie! Besides, that is just part of it! I already got other stuff like the smokescreen and the lubrication deployment."

As he blinked, James frowned at her. "Lubrication... deployment? What are you talking about?"

In reply, Lily pointed at the back. "There's a spout that pops up, it spits out a potion designed specifically to make things slick. Any pursuing vehicles would be unable to grip the road's surface after all. We'd give them the slip afterwards."

Glancing at the area in question, James raised an eyebrow. "That would have been very useful in Italy that one time."

With a hum as she got back to work, Lily shrugged. "Honestly, I don't think that it would have. Now, that time in Poland on the other hand... There it would have been useful."

Arms crossed, the Potter could only nod. "I suppose so. Granted, better Poland then Belgium anyways. That was a mess."

That got him a look from Lily. "Belgium? Come on, James, Belgium was not that bad you know."

However, that only got her a look from her husband. "Yes, yes it was. Twenty years, Lily. Twenty years before we can enter the country as the Statute of Limitations runs out. For both of us!"

Just blinking, Lily then shrugged. "As I said, not that bad. Remember Amsterdam?"

Facepalming, James let out a groan. "Amsterdam was something else, Lils. I still do not believe what the bloody hell happened in those few days we were there. Even being around magic as much as I was, it was unbelievable."

Still working, the witch hummed. "Well, it was fun at least?"

Needless to say, that got her a groan from James. "Yes, fun. With magical and muggle Intelligence agents from Russia, the US, France, that Flemish guy who did... that stuff. Oh, and the Australian, can't forget about the Australian."

One hand raised, she wagged a finger at him. "Better then that time in Hong Kong. That was actually a lot of fun, especially after we teamed up with that one guy. Granted, he kept on about how he was looking for no trouble, but useful to hang around. Especially after giving him a ladder."

A shiver went through James at that. "Truly, that was a bad day for those Death Eaters and their Chinese counterparts." Shaking that off, he turned back to the car. "Why are you working on that anyways?"

Wagging a hand back and forth, Lily giggled. "For if we need to escape, James! That way wheel make an escape. Oil promise you that!"

Simply rolling his eyes at the puns, the wizard tilted his head. "Well, at least its not like that police box that you modified with magic. Still don't know why you expanded the inside and gave it flight and portkey abilities." At the glare from his wife, he held up his hands. "What?"

Just huffing, Lily shook her head. "And you call yourself British..." Then a frown crossed her face. "Wonder where it went off to though? Had a damn mind of its own..."
___________________________________________________________________

Looking up from where he was reading his father's journal, not diary as James was very specific about that, Harry took in the awed looks on the Abyssal Destroyer's faces. One of them was clapping her flippers. "Wow, Uncle Harry! Grandma Lily sounds so cool!"

Another Destroyer rapidly nodded. "Uh-huh! And she sound sort of like how Mommy is when she is working really hard on something too!" Pausing, she thought it over before nodding again. "Yeah, just like Mommy."

While the other Destroyers chimed in with their own comments, or asking him to read them some more stories, Harry caught the glimpse out of the corner of his eye of a car approaching the naval base. It took him only a few seconds to recognize it though and wave. 'Huh, wonder what Ooyodo-Oba is doing here?'

Inside the car, Ooyodo took a moment to wave to Harry and smile a bit. "Well, it seems that he is getting along with the girls there."

A chuckle beside her made the Light Cruiser glance to where Supprin was. "Not too surprising, I suppose. Abyssal Destroyers, once you earn their affection, are very open. And while I never met her fleet before outside of Blackie Smokie, I am not at all shocked that Hoppou's children get along with Harry."

Considering that for a few moments, Ooyodo chuckled as well. "That is true enough, I suppose. And Harry-Chan is the sort of person that they would be pretty open with."

Moments later, Supprin leaned towards her with a small smile. "Perhaps. As an aside though, thank you for transporting me here, I really appreciate it. This car of yours is comfortable and so good for resources!"

Lips twitching, Ooyodo shook her head. "Well, it is a hybrid, which is why I kept it. As for transporting you here?" Bringing her car into a parking spot, she smiled. "It was no trouble at all. I've been meaning to come up here to Kushiro anyways and have a look at their books and files here. Not that I think that Tanaka and the others are the issue, but with some problems that don't make sense I wanted to have a close look myself. Also, to get in touch with some contacts I have here. Especially to see if they might not be able to help Tanaka if needed through... unofficial channels."

Supprin only nodded at that as she understood what was unsaid. In fact, the Abyssal was not surprised that Ooyodo had contacts among the smuggling rings and such even as far away as Hokkaido. Granted, she did wonder how they were doing so, but decided it was not important. And might be for the best that she did not know. Once the car was parked, Supprin opened the door and stepped out. Moments later, her gauntlets appeared on her formerly bare hands. A car ride with someone she trusted was one thing, but a public place such was where they found themselves now?

That was another matter entirely.

With some final goodbyes, the two parted ways and Supprin walked to the hotel close to the base. Upon entering, she was guided to where the other Princesses and Demons were. Entering the room, she gave a small nod to Norihara who had set up a laptop before turning to Wanko and Hoppou. But before she could, Supprin caught sight of what was on the screen which made her pause. It took a few seconds, but she realized it was a Re-Class' skeleton on it. And just the sight of it made her wince, what due to it being twisted and deformed. If her skeleton was like that...

Just nodding, the Supply Depot Princess turned to Hoppou. "I can see how why you wanted me here for supplies, Lady Hoppou. That is going to take quite a bit out of what I have stockpiled."
Frowning, Hoppou looked at her. "Hoppou just hopes that you have what is needed and can give it."

Simply shrugging, Supprin waved her off. "I have all the supplies needed for a Re-Class. Probably enough to build one or two from scratch." At the wide eyes, she gestured to Wanko and Revina. "Lady Wanko's Re-Class have needed repairs before. Not on this level, but..." Rubbing her chin, the Abyssal considered the issue. "I do have the materials needed for this. But you do need to perform the paperwork for it to be released."

Lost, Ritou looked at the other Abyssal Installation in utter confusion. "Paperwork? For resources?"

Giving her a look, Supprin nodded. "Yes, paperwork. That way I know what has been taken where and when. I won't release any of it unless the proper paperwork is done first though. Hence why I am telling you all that."

Hoppou gave a small nod. "Hoppou understands this, she used to have a Quartermaster back in Unalaska." Ignoring the surprise on Supprin's face, she turned to Tanith. "Hoppou thinks that Tanith should do the paperwork though as it is for Regalia."

Eyes wide, Tanith pointed at herself. "Me, Mother?" At her nod, the Northern Water Princess blinked before taking a deep breath and turning to Supprin. "Could you... show me how... to fill them out? And which forms are... needed for what?"

Now extremely pleased, Supprin pulled out a stack for forms and placed them onto a table before also bringing out a pen. "It would be my pleasure. Now, if you come over here, we can begin right now..."

With a nod, Tanith did so and listened as Supprin explained things regarding the paperwork. The whole time, she did not see how happy the Supply Depot Princess was...

 

[darthcourt10]

Snippet 35: S0ngD0g13

The various Demons, Flagships, and Princesses of the Fleet of Laughter watched as the Destroyers frolicked in the surf, enjoying the bright Kushiro day. As the sun began to sink and the shadows grew long, one Destroyer, Blue Eyes, strayed down the length of the beach until she rounded a curve and passed out of view, following an odd sound...

It was singing, but not any song she'd heard, nor was the song in English or in Japanese. Blue Eyes paused, watching as an older woman played an accordion, and sang a haunting, melancholy song. "What song is that?" she asked, and the woman startled slightly, almost fumbling the instrument.

"My word, you gave me quite a start, little one. Are you one of the friendly Abyssals who've come to town?"

"Uh-huh. I'm Blue Eyes, a Ro-Class from Tanith's Fleet. Your singing was very pretty."

The woman laughed, her own blue eyes sparkling. "Danke, Kleine blaue Augen; Thank you, Little Blue Eyes. My name is Lilli Bauer; I was... singing a song for my brutter, my brother, Hans."

"But there's no one here except us..." Blue Eyes said, looking around.

Lilli shook her head. "Hans was a sailor, during World War Two. He served on an unterseeboot, a submarine, that was lost at sea. He always loved music, so every year I sing a song for him on his birthday. So he knows I remember him, you know?"

Blue Eyes nodded. "The bigger ships tell stories about the ones who didn't escape during the Scattering; they say that if they're remembered then it's like they're still here, in spirit." The little Destroyer moved closer onto the sand. "What song were you singing for Hans, Miss Lilli?"

"Lili Marleen. It's about a soldier who has to go off to fight, saying goodbye to the girl he loves."

"Can you sing it again? Please?"

"Ja, I can sing it again for you." Lilli began to play, and then began to sing in German, her husky voice shot-through with emotion...

Vor der Kaserne vor dem großen Tor
Stand eine Laterne
Und steht sie noch davor
So wollen wir uns da wiedersehn
Bei der Laterne wollen wir stehen
Wie einst
Lili Marleen
Wie einst
Lili Marleen

Unsre beiden Schatten sahen wie einer aus;
Dass wir so lieb uns hatten
Das sah man gleich daraus
Und alle Leute sollen es sehen
Wenn wir bei der Laterne stehen
Wie einst
Lili Marleen
Wie einst
Lili Marleen

Schon rief der Posten: Sie bliesen Zapfenstreich;
Es kann drei Tage kosten!
Kam'rad, ich komm ja gleich
Da sagten wir auf Wiedersehn
Wie gerne würd' ich mit dir gehn
Mit dir
Lili Marleen
Mit dir
Lili Marleen

Deine Schritte kennt sie
Deinen schönen Gang
Aller Abend brennt sie
Doch mich vergaß sie lang
Und sollte mir eine Leids geschehn
Wer wird bei der Laterne stehn
Mit dir
Lili Marleen?
Mit dir
Lili Marleen?

Aus dem stillen Raume
Aus der Erde Grund
Hebt mich wie im Traume dein verliebter Mund
Wenn sich die späten Nebel drehen
Werd' ich bei der Laterne stehen
Wie einst
Lili Marleen
Wie einst
Lili Marleen

(Wenn sich die späten Nebel drehen
Werd' ich bei der Laterne stehen)
Wie einst
Lili Marleen
Wie einst
Lili Marleen...

...............................................

When Blue Eyes sailed back to meet her comrades and sisters, she was singing softly...

"... wie einst, Lili Marleen..."

..............................................

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Entering the small café, USS Taylor looked around in curiosity before she spotted a young woman roughly her age in a booth. Said woman was blonde and blue eyed while dressed in what the Destroyer recognized as the latest fashion. The sort of teenaged girl who would attract attention wherever she went, though currently she was boredly stirring an iced coffee. However, Taylor could see a lot more then the average human.

Such as the ghostly hull that overlaid the other girl.

And as every other time she saw it, Taylor attempted to identify exactly what class of ship it was. From what she could see, it was a small Ocean Liner with a single stack. The closest that she ever came to identifying it by general lines was through looking through book after book of Cruise Liners. In fact, she greatly resembled some of the Tenders used by said ships when they entered port, something that did not make much sense to the shipgirl. After all, those ships were made for coastal duties. Not crossing the great oceans of the world. Lips twitching as she made her way towards her friend, Taylor shook her head. 'Granted, not everyone had her advantage.'

Before she reached her friend, the other shipgirl smirked at her before tapping a wand on the table. While no one else noticed, Taylor could feel the spell unravel. "Taylor."

Reaching her, the Fletcher hugged her. "Fox, its good to see you again."

While watching as her friend sat, Fox shrugged some and waved a hand. "Sorry about that, been a bit busy. You know how things get at times, especially with the magical side."

Simply humming, Taylor gave a slight nod. "Considering some of what I have been hearing? I am not surprised at all."

Fox waved for one of the waitresses to make their way over. "And you are wondering how much I actually know in regards to some happenings?" At the blink, she gave a vulpine grin. "I told you, Taylor, I'm psychic."

Giving her a look, the Destroyer was about to respond when the waitress arrived. After she took her orders and walked off, Taylor turned back to Fox. "I call bullshit on that, Fox. There's plenty of supernatural things out there, but ESPers are not one of them. And certainly not with shipgirls."

Lightly laughing, the other girl leaned forward with her hands on top of one another with her chin on top. "Espers, Taylor? Really?"

A small flush on her face, the Destroyer huffed some. "Yes, because that sounds a lot better then calling them psychics." Seeing the slight grin, she looked away and muttered. "And... I've spent a lot of time in Japan."

Waving one hand, Fox only nodded. "That much is obvious. But I am not kidding, Taylor, I really am psychic. For example? That guy three tables to the left, next to the window? He's looking at us and wondering how much money he could grab from a tabloid if he was to sell a picture of us on a date. The one across the street through the right hand window? He's Mafia, apparently some of the people you pissed off in Italy have connections. Not that he'll get a chance to cause trouble as the woman in the city uniform watering flowers nearby is actually ONI and is planning to take him down in three hours when he goes to make a report along with the FBI."

Just blinking, Taylor glanced out of the corner of her eyes and then sighed some at seeing the exact people mentioned before softly muttering to herself. "Dammit." Frowning, she watched out of the corner of her eye as the guy who Fox had pointed out worked for tabloids went to pull out his camera, only for suddenly his legs to jerk out uncontrollably and him to fall to the ground. At the looks from the other patrons, he flushed deeply and then quickly left after paying his bill. Seeing that, Taylor gave a small chuckle. "Thanks, Fox."

Only shrugging, the other shipgirl slid her wand back into its hidden holster. "Its no problem, Taylor. Besides which, we wouldn't want your... friend... with the nice hugs to get the wrong idea." There was amusement on her face at how Taylor blushed at that and muttered before she took a sip of her iced coffee. "Is something wrong, Taylor?"

All Taylor did was glare at her before groaning. "Fuck off, Fox. Besides, bad enough that some of my sisters comment on the two of us." Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "They seem to think that you're a perfect fit for Tattletale from that damn story."

Chuckling, Fox shook her head at that. "While I have read the story and do enjoy the character, I would like to think that I am a lot better then her. At least I don't go and start mouthing off about things people don't want others knowing just to show off how much I know. If there was a Coil, I think that I would have little issue making the problem just disappear like smoke in the wind."

That made Taylor pause for a moment in sipping her own drink before shaking her head. For most civilians, the matter of fact way that her friend mentioned killing someone would bother them. But she was military and it did not get much more then an eye roll from her. Especially due to the little bits and pieces she knew of her friend's history that she let slip, most likely on purpose knowing her. "Did something happen recently?"

Fox had a far off look on her face before shaking it off. "Just coming back from seeing an old friend off at his wake."

Eyes widening, the Destroyer reached over and placed a hand on her friend's. "Are you alright, Fox? Because if you want to talk..."

Sadly smiling, Fox sighed a bit. "I wouldn't mind talking in a bit, Woodsman was a good man for all the problems that came with his job. And he went out serving his country, which for someone like him was the best way. Especially with how his past few years have been almost crippled due to an Abyssal."

Raising an eyebrow, Taylor decided to be blunt as a Battleship at that. "That sounds like a Codename."

Lips curling, the Ocean Liner had a small bit of twinkling in her eye. "It is as a matter of fact. Can't say much more then that about his name, though it was good to see Swordsman and Echidna among the others again. Not that they recognized me now with how I am or with how the last time any of them saw me was in the 1990s before I sank. Pretty sure that most of them assumed that I was a young agent or protégé of his."

Only shaking her head, Taylor sighed at that. "Its the same with any of us shipgirls, though our crew will usually recognize that they know us right off the bat." Then she frowned as her friend slipped her a piece of paper. "What's this now?"

Sipping her iced coffee, Fox hummed a bit. "That is something for your superiors. A little warehouse in an out of the way area of New England in an abandoned, seaside town. It also mentions that they might want to have radiation suits." At the surprised expression, the shipgirl gave a chuckle. "We might now be able to get into most Abyssal held areas, but the deep oceans are one place that they don't monitor. And don't worry, we didn't do anything to the... packages... we retrieved. We've also made sure that a number of others will not be useful to the Abyssals for materials."

Taylor only nodded at that before sighing. "Destroyed?"

A small smile on her face, Fox gave a nod. "Destroyed and vanished best that we could. We might only have a few operators who can work at those depths, and for the amount of time needed, but we do have them. The reactors are gone."

Placing the note into her pocket, and thus into a safe within her hull, Taylor smiled back. "Thank you."

With a shrug, Fox shook her head. "No need to thank us for this, we're just trying to work together the best that we can." Running a hand through her hair, she paused a moment and shrugged again. "But also inform them that in a few months or maybe years, we'll approach them due to some possible new operatives we have for special missions under the books, as it might be."

Eyes narrowing as she considered what that meant, Taylor gave a slight nod. "I see..." Shaking it off though, she frowned in thought. "By the way, besides... recent happenings... how have things been going for you?"

On Fox's face was another vulpine grin as she looked at her friend. "Good enough, I've passed all my tests with the excuse that I've been home schooled. Which is not exactly exaggerating as my crew were among the best to graduate from Ilvermony and they helped me learn when I came back. Top scoring, which is not that amazing to be honest considering my advantages. I do have some good news though for the USN."

Biting into a cookie, Taylor chewed it for a few moments before raising her eyebrow. "Oh? Besides what you just dropped on me?"

As she smirked into took a bite of brownie, Fox hummed a bit. "We managed to take down another possible troublesome group on our side of things. Also dropped some hints to the FBI about a militia in Oklahoma that they might want to keep a very close eye on due to them being Scourers and extremely anti-shipgirl."

That brought a grimace to Taylor's face. "Greeeat, that bunch causing trouble. Hopefully it is not as bad as that one Captain who was handing information over to other Scourers. Still don't know what the heck they were planning."

From the corner of her eye, she spotted her friend pull out her wand and wave it around in various motions out of sight of everyone else. Then Fox put it away with a scowl on her face. "Long story short? He was working with some other Scourers in the USN to sneak some into Sasebo to try and assassinate Admiral Richardson and his daughter. All the while making it seem that our side was behind it. With the hope, of course, of killing his unborn children inside of Mutsu. We're still back tracking where they got erumphant horn from on our side and no clue where they got the No-Maj explosives. But as an aside, we caught some who were going to try and do the same with Iowa's parents."

It went without saying that Taylor facepalmed hard at that. "Damn fucking idiots. What the hell are they even thinking!?"

With a sigh, Fox took a bite of her brownie. "Oh, they have been thinking alright. But before you ask, Scourers don't care that shipgirls are the major line of defense against Abyssals. You're magical and thus need to be destroyed along with anyone that associate with you. We got our own idiots mind you, but at least most of them are well meaning fools if you catch my drift and wanting to uphold the Statute of Secrecy, not realizing that it is already dead but hasn't realized that. Meanwhile, the Scourers just want to kill magic and are willing to kick off a war."

Still grimacing, Taylor shook her head. "At least you guys have been quietly helping us round them up. Just giving us the information to find out ourselves and check quietly caught a bunch of those idiots, especially in the military."

Holding out her hands in a gallic shrug, Fox shook her head. "That's the best that we can do right now. Our own government is breathing down our necks, those who want to keep the Statute going. So best to give you the information to cross check yourselves to catch them. Benefits both you in that the US No-Maj government and military catch a bunch of would be terrorists and infiltrators. And it helps us in that when the Statute falls it is one less problem for integration."

Just shaking her head slowly, Taylor finished her cookie and started on another. "You really need to wonder about some people. Though that does remind me, how as your research in the Naval Archives? I know that you were looking up old ship designs after all."

Fox had a vulpine look on her face and chuckled. "It was fruitful." As Taylor nodded and she steered the conversation onto other tactics, the MACUSA shipgirl considered things and glanced around. Due to having so many master level Occlumens and Legimancers as crew for as long as she sailed, Fox was extremely good at scanning surface thoughts of people and probing them. Add in how a large number of her crew had also been trained in reading people without magic, the magical sensors, and so forth that was used to spy on passengers going between various countries as well as on said countries in port? Fox was very, very good at what she did. Even if she was unable to fight Abyssals outright, it just meant that she was very good at being a Spook instead and hunting the enemies who would have them lose the war in the shadows.

Then she tuned back fully into the conversation after making sure that no one was around listening. Soon enough, Fox had her friend flustered and sputtering as she teased her about a certain young man...

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Slithering along the street, Shiromizu looked from one place to another. Everywhere she looked, there was life being breathed back into her small village once more. Not just the sight of Yokai and the odd human heading to and fro, but also the fact that she could hear work being done on new homes. Pausing, she glanced around the small street as an ATV with a small trailer filled with fresh cut lumber went past. "I never thought that I would see this day."

Beside her, Misa gave a small nod of her own. "Nor did I, Lady Shiromizu. Nor did I..." Taking a deep breath, she let it out with a smile. "But it is wonderful to see."

A flush on her cheeks, Shiromizu gave the Unagi Hime a mock glare. "And how many times must I tell you, Misa-Onee-Sama! Call me Shiromizu-Chan."

However, the other Yokai had a small smirk on her face as she waved the younger one off. "Many more times, I'm afraid." Tilting her head to the side, she considered her "Little Sister" for several moments. "You are looking well to be honest."

Only nodding, Shiromizu stretched a bit. "I feel a lot better. Sempai says that is because I'm slowly growing more and more into being a Mizuchi now that I know. And since my spring is now forming a small stream down the mountainside..."

With a hum from Misa, the two began to walk again. "Well, Jin-Sama would know more about such then I would. I suppose that she also knows what is wrong recently?"

The reminder of her lack of sleep made Shiromizu grimace some. "Hai, according to Sempai someone is mucking around big time in the spiritual realm. But she also stated that there's not much that we can do ourselves at the moment about that though she is going to try and find out what is happening. Its really annoying though and has been going on for the past day or so. Best way that I can put it is a itch you can't scratch inside your head."

Frowning, Misa furrowed her eyes some. "That does not sound good."

Simply tilting her head back to look at the sky, Shiromizu gave a small sigh. "Sempai doesn't think that whatever is happening is bad, just really annoying. But she also suggested that I go and find something to do while waiting for it to end, and since I have not been up here for a bit..."

Expression brightening, Misa smiled a little. "You decided to come and visit. Though from what you said, Harry-Sama is not in Yokosuka either."

Chuckling some, the Mizuchi shook her head. "No, Otouto isn't in Yokosuka. He's up in Hokkaido with Hoppou and Nagato-San taking care of... well, Hoppou's daughters that are up there. Wierd to think about to be honest, but true." Soft snickers escaped from her. "Though I wonder what Harry's expression was like when they called him Uncle. Sort of sorry that I missed that."

Lips twitching, Misa chuckled herself. "That does sound rather amusing, though I did not know that Hoppou-Sama had daughters still. Good news for her, I would think."

Both of them stopped before a small bus stop and Shiromizu watched as a minibus, really a converted van pulled up. As the two of them stayed there, some Yokai came out of said minibus and others entered before it pulled away and headed elsewhere. Head tilted to the side, Shiromizu frowned some in thought. "I wonder where they're going? Though a bus stop? Here?"

Nodding, the Unagi Hime smiled a bit. "It runs a route from here down the mountain and eventually to the nearest actual train station, though it can stop at one of the national bus stops. It helps a lot as a number of those here either live elsewhere on the mountain or elsewhere in the nation. It will be in operation at least until we have the train tracks laid back down and the locomotive fully repaired."

That made Shiromizu blink in surprise before she turned to Misa. "Wait, there's that many people here? But I thought that there were not that many on the mountain?"

Somewhat embarrassed, her adoptive older sister flushed. "It would seem that I was wrong about that, Lady Shiromizu." As the two began moving again, Misa sighed. "As it turned out, there were small communities hiding out, some of them in the old mines." There was a small grimace on her face as she shook her head. "We found out that there was one old mine where they fitted an sheet of steel in front as a way to prevent Kuroshi and her minions from getting inside while letting them leave every once in a while. Inside was about three dozen Yokai."

Wincing, Shiromizu shook her head. "At least that is over?"

Only nodding, Misa glanced at her. "On that, we can agree. Others though are returnees who fled when Kuroshi took over. Most raised families elsewhere and are now moving back as it is safe, and safer, then some other places due to the Abyssals." With a small shrug, she continued. "As it is, the village now stands at about two thousand with smaller groups having settled elsewhere on the mountain of a few hundred each."

A frown on her face, and worry in her eyes, Shiromizu turned towards Misa. "Is there going to be enough shelter for them? What about food? Water?"

Misa had a slight bit of amusement on her face, though she was glad that Shiromizu cared so much. "There will be enough shelter for everyone before the colder months hit. As for water? We have several sources for it including rain catchment. Food? We have that rather covered already."

Eyebrows raised, Shiromizu turned her attention onto her sister. "You do?"

Chuckling, the Yokai nodded with a slight smile. "We do. Part of it we have, ironically, Kuroshi to thank." At the confused expression she got, she continued. "While she was in power, a number of Yokai when they ate fruit simply tossed what remains close by. The seeds sprouted so we have a number of apple, nashi, and peach trees here on the mountain in various places. There's also a berry farm that sprang up in the past month, including those berries you mentioned Rose-San grew? Blackcurrants, I believe you called them?"

Slowly, Shiromizu nodded at that. "Those would be them, Rose grows a number of bushes and gets a lot of fruit from them. Besides which, she also makes a lot of things from them."

Just humming, Misa smile grew a touch. "Perhaps you could ask Rose-San if she would mind helping with that? I think the bakery in the village would appreciate it." Even as Shiromizu blinked, the Unagi Hime just nodded. "We also have some livestock on the mountain as well. Down at the foot, we have a Kotengu couple raising poultry. Chickens mostly but also quail, and something that they called a turkey as well. Besides them, there is a Inugami setting up a small cattle farm and a Shīsā with her Kitsune husband who are raising goats."

Frowning in thought, Shiromizu gave a small shake of the head at that. "Well, that sounds good. And goat meat while odd is something that can work as there are recipes that get rid of the smell."

Intrigued, Misa turned her attention to her adoptive little sister. "Really? Now that is interesting to know. Granted, a lot of us carnivorous Yokai are not really bothered by the smell." Making their way around a corner, she then smiled. "Speaking of local industry... welcome to Market Street."

Both her eyebrows raising, Shiromizu boggled a bit at the sight that met her. The street itself was pretty much dirt, with the skeletons of what was going to become stores along it. Certainly, from what she could see it would not compare with some store fronted streets she had seen. But the fact that it was her hometown said far more to her then anything else. More over, it was the tents she could see lining the street that caught her attention. As the two began walking along, Shiromizu frowned in thought before pointing to the two large buildings. "What are they building there?"

Looking in that direction, Misa chuckled some. "One is going to be a Nichijin, and the other will be a Lawsons."

Several moments passed before Shiromizu shook her head. "A Lawsons? I'm not that surprised about that, which is surprising." As they made their way along, the Mizuchi peeked into one tent and blinked at what met her before entering. Looking around, she had an interested expression on her face. 'Lacquerware?'

From where he was behind a small desk, a Tanuki perked up. "Welcome customers..." At seeing who it was, he bowed. "Ah! Lady Shiromizu! Please, welcome to my humble shop."

Much to his surprise, Shiromizu smiled and bowed back. "Thank you, it looks wonderful." Slowly, she made her way along the shelves looking at the works there with nods at some of them. They were not hugely fancy, in fact some of them were obviously for every day use. But all of them were well made. "How long have you been doing this for..."

The Tanuki smiled a bit. "Taro. And as to how long? About three centuries now to be honest, same with my Nee-San next door."

With a interested look, Shiromizu looked at him. "Your Nee-San makes them as well, you say?"

However, he shook his head. "No, she makes furniture as a matter of fact. Some of them are enchanted, such as her ice chests..." Frowning, Taro scratched his chin. "Oddly, a lot of the No-Majs here from the government and military have been really interested in them. All they have though is some chilling spells placed on them to keep them cool on the inside."

Unknown to him, Shiromizu had an idea or two why that would be. "Have you lived on the mountain long or have you returned?"

Smiling slightly, Taro nodded. "Returned, the two of us grew up on the mountain. Now that we can return? We're happy."

For the next little while, Shiromizu spoke with him but eventually left with several examples for the Nagato household. It was much the same with the shop next door owned by the Tanuki's sister, from which she left with a Tansu on her back. Eyebrow raised, Misa frowned a bit. "That's quite a bit."

Only shrugging the best that she could with the tansu on her back, Shiromizu chuckled. "Well, they're great gifts. I think that Harry will like this one." Having briefly met the thirteen year old, Misa nodded at that. Meanwhile, Shiromizu caught sight of something and blinked. "Is that a honey stand?"

Looking over, Misa gave a light laugh at that. "Oh yes! That would be Hina-San, she is a Yosuzume. She actually has a group of bee hives she's set up in one of the smaller valleys which she has warded from hornets so they won't destroy the hives. Her family has other bee farms elsewhere and are hoping that they can expand once the Statute falls."

With an intrigued look, Shiromizu nodded. After all, she had overheard enough from Ooyodo to take a general guess in regards to how well she would do. However, then her eye caught sight of a small moving truck leaving from one of the few, actual buildings. It declared that the store was a porcelain one. Even as she watched, the Itachi lifted a crate out and walked into the back of the store, though she winced as he basically dropped the crate at the side before walking in. At the chuckle beside her, she turned to Misa. "What?"

Highly amused, the Unagi Hime shook her head. "That would be one of the Shimakaze triplets."

That made Shiromizu blink for a moment. "Shimakaze? As in the Destroyer? Because I do know her..."

Shaking her head, Misa smiled some. "Actually, as in the actual phenomena. You see, the three of them are all Kamaitachi. More then that, they share the same witch girlfriend."

More then a little surprised at that, Shiromizu looked at the store front and felt her eyes widen some. "Wait, all three? And they share the same girl?"

Just humming, Misa chuckled. "A bit surprising, but yes. They're also quite happy with their relationship. Before you ask though, their parents lived here on the mountain and they've since opened up their shop. They have also been making swift business supplying other porcelain places as well with raw materials."

Watching as the Yokai from before walked out and grabbed another crate, the Mizuchi furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Have they found clay that they can use?" At the shake of her adoptive sister's head, her frown deepened. "But you just said-"

Misa raised a finger and nodded. "That they have been providing raw materials? They have. You see those crates that he has been bringing in?" Pausing for a nod, she then continued. "Those crates are filled with broken pieces of porcelain. Their girlfriend, Nabiki-San, uses a combination of transfiguration and alchemy to break it down into the raw components, recycling it so that it can be reused in new items with little issue. We also have a glass maker on this street who has been doing the same with broken glass. Turns out, it is a lot cheaper for them to do so as they can set up collection boxes for people to toss broken cups, mugs, dishes, tiles, even things such as toilets, in the local towns to be picked up. Then they separate the ceramic from porcelain or other materials. All of it ends up being broken down though in the end."

Considering that for a few moments, Shiromizu nodded. It reminded her that a small plant was also being planned to reclaim all the mine tailings in the area. Slowly, but surely, her hometown was coming back to life. After a few moments, she smiled and the two continued to walk along.

 

[darthcourt10]

Savato93

"Flagship?"

The Re-class blinked. She slowly turned to look the destroyer. "Ah… yeah…?"

"Do you want to… stop and rest?" coming to a stop next to her flagship, the destroyer laid down. "You seem… kinda droopy."

"Mm…" the Re-class groaned, putting a hand to her head as she wobbled on her feet. She struggled to maintain her focus on the destroyer. "N-no… m'fine." Her tail sluggishly rose up beside her, revealing an Abyssal fighter—her very last—coming to rest on her flight deck. "Land… northwest. Can hold out… a little longer."

The destroyer was unconvinced. She patted a flipper on her belly in invitation. "Just… lay with me. Please. You need rest, before you faint again."

She'd been with the Re-class for three months, now. In that time, she had come to know… not much new about the Re-class. She still kept quiet about her past, and the destroyer didn't want to agitate her by trying to push the issue. Something she did learn, however, was her limit—two weeks after the nightmare, after she gave up at any attempt of making her flagship sleep, the Re-class came to an abrupt stop and collapsed while sailing. When the destroyer stopped to check on her, she was out cold; her body's demand for rest finally too much for her to bear.

She had another nightmare, that night.

Since then, the destroyer had done her best to keep her flagship from shutting down again. Whether that meant frequent stops to rest, overfishing to make sure the Re-class didn't go hungry, or even serving as an alarm so she could try and take a nap for an hour or two. But despite her best efforts, she could only stave off the inevitable collapse from exhaustion by another week or so.

She'd suffered two more crashes since then… and she was overdue for her next.

Rocking side to side, the Re-class closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Finally, there was a slow, almost imperceptible nod. "…okay." She slowly shuffled over and laid down beside her destroyer. "You'll… protect me… if darkness comes…?"

"Of course." It pained the destroyer, knowing there was little she could do for her flagship to ease her sleep. But at the very least, she could be there to wake her before the nightmares set in fully, to comfort her in the aftermath.

Actually… it was kinda funny.

She'd chosen to follow this Re-class because she thought she would be taken care of. But now… she was taking care of the Re-class—and the strangest thing was that she didn't particularly mind. She liked the Re-class; she didn't pick fights with anyone, didn't demand the impossible from a mere destroyer. And above all else, she was kind. She had more than earned the destroyer's loyalty, simply because she wasn't mean to her for the sake of being mean.

The destroyer blinked as she felt the Re-class grip her flipper, hold on to it with what little strength she had left. "Thank… you. You're a… good girl… doggy."

"…thank you." And in return for that simple kindness, the destroyer did her best to overcome any challenge she faced. But she knew she could do better. "Sleep well."

She had to. For her flagship.

XXXXXXXXXX

"…uh, what should I… put here?"

"Here?" Supprin tapped a line. Tanith nodded. "That would be the location of your base of operations. You have an island you've been living on up to this point, right?"

Ritou rubbed her forehead. "Tanith's island is magical. Uncharted. That someone used to live there before her group is basically all we know about the place."

Tanith looked up to Supprin. "Would it be acceptable… for me to list this under… Mother's residence?"

The older Princess tapped a finger to her chin. "Hmm… Given the circumstances… I think I can let that pass, yes." She nodded. "If you can determine the latitude and longitude of your island whenever you return there, though, pass it to the admirals. They should have the connections necessary to identify the island."

Off to the side, Hoppou glanced to her other daughters. "Ritou and sisters paying attention, right? Need to know how to do this, to run a base well."

There were sounds of confirmation from the princesses and demons. "Not that we would have had much use for this knowledge before now," Ritou noted. "We thought we were on our own out there. We just barely got by with whatever we scavenged."

Supprin scoffed. "No supplies, no infrastructure, no clear chain of command… you girls really need help."

"Hopefully, with the treaty signing, we can finally get that help," Ritou said. "We won't have to hide from anybody, anymore. We can get out and do work, trade with people again."

"Well, if you want to do business with the humans, you'll need to be able to transport your own goods..." Supprin nodded slowly, expression thoughtful. "Seeing as you're Hoppou's girls, and you seem nice enough… I think I can trust you with it…" She said to herself. Reaching into her hold, she produced a black plastic tube, offering it to the sisters. "Here, this should help you."

Ritou cautiously accepted the tube. Unscrewing the cap, the princess pulled out the roll of paper within and unfurled it. Her sisters peeked over her shoulders, trying to get a look at the plans, as her eyes widened. "What… what is this?" she asked. "'Oku-class'…?"

"Something I've been developing for a few years. A handful of these should be enough to get you going, at least until you're established enough to expand your operations."

Leaning forward, Yoko gripped a corner of the schematic with a shaky hand. "A-and these don't…?"

Supprin shook her head. "One hundred percent human-free. You can move cargo around without people getting on your backs for desecrating bodies."

The sisters looked to each other, murmuring excitedly.

Just then, a sigh caught everyone's attention. "I think this is… the last one." Tanith spoke up, a note of weariness in her voice as she laid the final set of forms in top of the stack.

Expression brightening, Supprin stepped over and picked up the sheaf of papers in front of Tanith. The other inhabitants of the room watched with bated breath for over a minute as she leafed through the papers, looking over every field, every checkbox.

Finally… Supprin smiled.

"This… this looks great!" She exclaimed happily. "Sure, your handwriting is a little sloppy, but you've crossed the t's and dotted the i's… everything's in place!" she giggled lightly. "Man, this is such a breath of fresh air—having a Princess willingly fill out my forms, and doing it properly!"

The other Abyssals let out sighs of relief. Tanith sat back in her chair, clenching her writing hand and rolling her wrist to work out the cramps. "I would go… to extraordinary lengths, for my daughter." She groaned. "But that was very much… a test of my limits."

Supprin waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. It's just part of running a fleet cleanly and efficiently. You'll get used to it after a few more of these." She pulled out a stencil and stamped several of the papers before storing everything away. "Alright, with the forms all filled out, I just need to know two more things—when and where you want the supplies to be brought. Have you all scheduled a date for this procedure?"

The Abyssals glanced between one another, then to their mother. Hoppou tilted her head, thinking. "Most of preparation is ready. Hoppou finally finished recovering her research on Re-class, thanks to Big Sister's notes. Norihara's studies have given Hoppou knowledge to safely dismantle Regalia's warped body. And with Miss Supprin's supplies, we can replace any parts we can't recycle. All that's left is place to operate…"

She looked to Tanith.

"And Regalia herself."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Five hours we spent, going up and down that hotel looking for Grunt. And then Grandma just waltzed out of her room, carrying the little guy on her head!" Nero rubbed her temples with one hand. Her other hand was occupied by said piglet, nestled against her chest. "Said he dropped from an air vent in the ceiling, plopped right down on her bed."

Regalia's head tilted, her jaw slack. "How did he even get up there…?"

"That's what we're ALL trying to figure out." Nero shook her head in disbelief. "He was all OVER the damn place. Running in one room, running out a different room down the hall, cornering him in a room only to have him freaking disappear into a vent…"

"SoundslikeyourAbyssalbullshitrubbedoffonhim!" a certain Re-class yipped as she ran past, a red-faced Sunny chasing after her spewing obscenities.

Nero looked after Revina with a bewildered look. After a few seconds, she turned back to her cousin. "No, that can't be possible." Her expression became uncertain. "…can it?"

"Well, you've kept him in your hold a lot since we left home…" Regalia pointed out. "Maybe he picked up some of the magic that lets you do that."

Gripping Grunt in both hands, the Ne-class looked her pet in the eyes. "…I can't tell if that would be awesome or terrifying."

"SPIDERPIG!" came a muffled scream in the distance, followed by a yelp and a crash.

Regalia glanced toward the commotion, finger to her chin. "…you think we should do something about that? Try and calm them down?"

"I wouldn't risk it," Nero shook her head. "You don't get between a battleship and her prey."

"But who's the prey in this situation?"

"Yes."

Regalia was debating whether or not to reply to that answer when the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention. She turned around to see her mother standing there, an odd look on her face. "Oh, hey Mom. Is everything alright?"

Tanith nodded slowly. "Yes… everything is fine." She glanced to Nero. "Hello, Nero. Do you mind if I… speak with Regalia for a minute?"

Nero blinked. "Oh, sure."

Regalia waved a farewell to her cousin as she wandered off. She turned back to her mother with a concerned expression. "What is it, Mom? Is something wrong, that you needed to talk with me?"

Tanith shook her head. "No, Regalia. In fact, everything is… going wonderfully." Reaching into her hold, she pulled out a slip of paper and showed it to her daughter. "Aunt Wanko's associate has… provided us with materials for… your rebuild."

Regalia's eyes widened. "Really? That's good news..." She tilted her head. "So… how much longer until everything is ready?"

The princess paused. "That is what I was coming to… speak with you about." She took a deep breath. "Mother's research is complete. Norihara's observations have given us… an idea of how to… go about the process. With the supplies on hand…" She gestured to her daughter. "All that's left… is you."

The Re-class blinked. "Me?"

"Yes. We are ready to… carry out your rebuild… when you are."

"…oh." Regalia was silent for a moment. "I see."

Tanith reached out, laying a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Are you okay, Regalia?"

Regalia nodded. "Yeah. Just… surprised, is all. I thought it would take longer for everything to be done."

"It probably would have, if… Mother was working alone." Tanith shook her head. "But she is not alone. And neither are we. We have allies, friends, family. All working together… for your sake."

Regalia's gaze fell. "Yeah, you're right. We do have a lot of help…" She looked back up to her mother. "Still… I'm… I know you're all doing this for me, but… I'm still kinda scared."

Tanith's expression softened. "It's okay to be scared, Regalia. This rebuild will be an… incredible change to you… and how you live your life. But that does not have… to be a bad thing."

"I get that. But it's still really intimidating." The Re-class wrung her hands nervously. "I'm letting myself get taken apart, and then put back together in a different way. Nobody in their right mind would walk into that without at least having second thoughts…"

The princess sighed and nodded. "Yes. It is not always pleasant… to think about. But you won't be doing this alone, Regalia. Your family will be there… ready to support you… every step of the way. Just as they always have." Tanith took her daughter's hand in her own. "And I will be at your side… for as long as it takes… until you can finally stand tall… as you were meant to. Do you understand?"

Regalia looked down, down at herself. "…you promise you'll stay with me?"

"What… you think I would… lie to you?" Chuckling, Tanith wrapped her daughter in a hug. "I promise."

Regalia closed her eyes, instinctively putting her own arms around her mother. Taking comfort in her familiar, warm touch. When the two eventually pulled away, the nervous energy about her faded somewhat, replaced by resolve. Standing as straight as she could, Regalia took a deep breath… and nodded.

"Alright. I'm ready."

 

[darthcourt10]

Lord K

Seeing his superior walking into the Communication Chamber where he was waiting, Comiket glances at the box on the table besides all his notes and nods.

"I got pizza if you want any. Classic deep dish."

Hunter's face however, is unreadable as ever as he sits down, leafing with scarred hands through his own folders that he brought.

"The Director hasn't floo'd yet?"

The Lab-Wizard gestures wordlessly at the green, but otherwise featureless fire in the center of the room. "I talked to him already, but not regarding our progress. I figured it was best we wait for you on that front. He needs somebody with an understanding of summoning rituals to look into what the Candians did summoning that installation in Halifax."

"What did you tell him?"

"That it was too early for me to leave my work here. A single check on day one, isn't a automatic bill of clean health going forwards. That, and our only other option to replace me on a one-to-one skill level is Dr Naomi, and she's..... well...."

Hunter nods, knowing what he means to say, even if the other wizard normally not one to speak ill of his comrades. "So you're not going to a new project then?"

Comiket shakes his head. "I've been with this project from day one, and I would prefer that whoever is in-charge of maintaining those girls' health has some continuity with the development and summoning stages. I don't need all of my current team anymore, so I can maybe flog them off to whoever we do send up north to observe."

The bespectacled wizard then pauses and glances at his older counterpart uncertainly. "That's, uh, if they're actually still staying that is. If hardly any of them do, I may just switch over to studying whatever reports and observations we can get our hands on regarding Halifax, and part-time for this project instead. I don't want to sound callous, but time and resource management won't be too efficient if I end up staying for anything less than three or four of them."

Hunter tiredly runs a scarred hand over his face. "We'll see in a few days time."

"They didn't like what they heard at the briefing?"

"Maybe, maybe not." The older wizard shrugs helplessly. "It's not reliable to gauge their feelings, nor force a decision on them at this point. From their perspectives, they've had a whole bunch of literally world-changing revelations dropped on them over the course the last two weeks. Let's give them a few days to adjust or figure out what they want to do, before asking them if they want to commit to a plan."

The man then grimaces slightly. "The best kind of soldier is one who wants to be there. There is nothing more detrimental to the effectiveness of a fighting force or operation, than the presence of someone who doesn't actually want to be there, or is not at the least committed, regardless of personal feelings. The last thing I want, is someone who opts in, and then becomes dead weight when they later change their mind, but feel pressured or obligated to stay." It's cold and harsh, but if there's one thing that Vietnam taught him, it's the importance of resolve.

Comiket meanwhile, tilts his head curiously. "So now what? Not that I'm complaining, since a rest period is probably a good idea, even before any further observations or check ups to establish their baseline health and mechanical performance anyway."

Tenting his fingers, Hunter stares quietly into the fire at the center of the table. "They say war is forty percent preparing, forty percent waiting, and ten percent fighting. Now we wait. The ball's in their court before we can decide what to do next and what's viable. In the mean time, I've told the staff that if they want anything, mission related or not, to help them acquire it or source funds."

He then pauses before amending his statement with a grimace. "Within reason of course. Still, we did basically pull them from everything they know with only the clothing and rigging that they have on their backs."

As the two trail off into silence and become absorbed in their notes while waiting for the Director to contact them, neither notice the invisibility cloaked shape that had manged to sneak into the room on Hunter's heels, defying all the measures normally meant to stop such unwelcome ears in meetings. Beneath the cloak, bronze eyes framed by unruly black hair, watch on with interest.

-----------------------

Sitting on her bed in the temporary quarters they'd been offered, (yet another fucking bank of shipping containers, arranged around a few interconnected tents for communal common areas), Unzen starred at her phone.

Her new phone.

Technically her first actual phone.

Out of some strange impulse, either spite to make the job harder, curiosity to see if it was available, or some form of desperate search for confirmation, Unzen had requested that it be logged to the exact same number she 'remembered' it being. Damningly, the number had been unregistered and available.

Now Unzen starred at what was almost a carbon copy of her an object she had last seen sinking into the murky depths a few days ago.

Maybe she just needed to actually unpack and process everything that was going on. Maybe it still hadn't really hit her yet. Because all she could really feel, looking at the phone and it's empty contacts list, was a numb sense of disbelief that she was going to have to download and grind up all her Airplane Girls all over again.

What was wrong with her? Why did she feel more for the pain-in-the-ass RNG of getting F-15J(s) chan back, more than anything else. A fucking gacha game.

An impulse strikes her.

Thankful for her good memory, Unzen punches a number into the phone, irregardless of the charges she's probably about to rack up calling a cell number in Japan, from a Japanese cellphone that's technically currently overseas. For a moment, she hears the dull dial tone, almost not expecting to hear anybody pick up. For all she knows, that number she remembers is simply yet another fabrication from the dreams that created her.

Then Unzen's heart catches in her throat, when she hears her call connect.

"Yo! It's Ryoko, what's up?"

The Heavy Carrier can only remain frozen, mouth dry and uncertain what to say.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

What is she supposed to say? 'Oh hey, in another life, I was best friends with you and your daughters?'

"Wait, who is this? I don't know this number-"

Yeah, because that would go over well.

"Hey, this is a private number! How did you get this phone?!"

'So you know the Zao from World of Warships? Well somebody decided to turn the original design brief into an actual kanmusu! Surprise it's me!'

"Are you even listening to me?!"

Uncertainly, the Heavy Cruiser opens her mouth, but finds all she can do is work her jaw soundlessly.

"Is this even connected to anybody?"

Finally, Unzen bites one of her knuckles to stop herself.

"Hello???"

At last, with a mildly annoyed and baffled sigh, Matsuda Ryoko hangs up, none the wiser that she has definitively proven what Unzen has being trying to hold off on truly acknowledging, for what has been from her perspective, the last few days. The enormity of the ramifications she has been forging past and shrugging off in her quest for answers and to find Frankland, along the unwelcome truths it has implied about not just the world around her, but practically all the people she knew in it.

The people she thought she knew.

Curling into a bull and hugging herself, Unzen presses her eyes into her knees and ignores her hitching breath as she tries not to cry.

-----------------------

Opening the fridge in the main common area they have been provided until they decide whether or not they wish to stay or go, Frankland takes a moment to glance about surreptitiously. To anybody else, she probably looks like your normal everyday battleship, curiously investigating what's on offer to entertain her hunger.

Upon making sure no one else is actually looking however, Frankland turn her focus back to the fridge with an analytical frown. While she might be inclined to take her fellow Americans at their word more than most, her supposed history with MACUSA still gives her a certain amount of healthy wariness and suspicion that few ever realize she is capable of, and that she has never been more thankful for.

Rummaging through the contents of the fridge that have been left for their perusal should they get hungry, the battleship surreptitiously checks lids, seals, tabs and packaging for any signs of potential tampering or 'additives'. To her immense relief though, she finds no signs or traces, mundane or magical, of any sort of tampering with any of the fridge's contents. There is also a rather convenient note, offering a list of nearby fast food joints where they can order from, and then have someone pick up from.

For the time being however, Frankland's going to hold off on that offer, until she can feel out this operation and its agents a little more. The fridge wasn't totally off the suspect list either. At the first available excuse, she was going to go to the mall for something, and then get 'sidetracked' to the supermarket for something fresher than MREs, instant meals, or fast food.

Besides, after the shitty depressing revelations of the last few days, she could do with something pleasant. A little bit of nice (relatively) homemade style cooking to cheer not just herself, but everyone else up too.

While Unzen was probably the most notably effected (at least for the moment), they were all beginning to feel the emotional aftershocks, now that time enough had passed for things to start settling in. With a sigh, the rejected North Carolina class proposal shakes her head and turns her thoughts to more useful matters, and things pertinent to helping the group.

Maybe some nice fresh biscuits to go with some ham? She had no idea where she'd get good Tennessee catfish around these parts though. Maybe-

"Dobraye ootro!"

Frankland very nearly jumps out of not just her skin, but her armor belt as well as she spins around.

"JESUS CHRIST!"

"Nyet!" Answers the grinning form of Sovetskaya Krasnovia, standing almost directly behind her. "It is I! Better, no? Rat teebya veedet' my American comrade."

"Damnit, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

The battlecarrier grins. "Well then, the technological insufficiencies of the capitalist system reveal themselves! Speaking of strong, durable things built by glorious communist nation and then sold here under false capitalist label, I have my IPod back!"

Holding the device in Franland's face, the battleship almost goes cross-eyed, before pushing the battlecarrier's hand away. "Why do you have only one song on there?"

"Is only song one should ever need!" declares Krasnovia proudly. "Composed for the common man, by the common man, for a nation of the common man!"

"Didn't you used to have two songs on your old one?"

For a moment, the battlecarrier smile fades, replaced by a displeased frown. "The glorious Russian recordings of "Slav'sya, Otechestvo nashe svobodnoye" is only national anthem of communist birthplace I could find."

Then she glares with a disatisfied pout. "Apparently Krasnovia is not nation of true soviet republic and bastion of socialism in real world."

Frankland stares in shock "What."

The battlecarrier nods solemly. "It is nickname for war game nation in training area of US of A. Glorious People's Democratic Republic of Krasnovia is apparantly Capitalist Military Roleplay of California."

For a moment, Frankland is stunned, uncertain what to say. Gently she places a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Krasnovia.... I don't know what to say.... I... I'm so-"

"WRONG!" cheers the Russian battlecarrier, causing the battleship to real back in shock and confusion.

"I'm what?"

The supposedly American designed and Russian built naval-aviation daughter of the Soviet Union grins with victorious smugness.

"All is revealed to me now! You Americans have never been able to resist the call of communism, have you!?! You are like repressed gay man in denial, yes?"

Frankland is now officially lost.

"... wat?"

"You deny socialism with all your bluster and vehemence, and yet still can't help but adopt and test grand soviet models of your own in secret! Like imperialist Eaton pig secretly visiting gentleman's club when he thinks no one is looking!"

"No seriously, what?"

The Russian grins. "Tell me Frank of Lands, daughter of a state that attempted to succeed. Do you feel the need to cry out for Revolution? Do the oppressed cries of your Proletariat yearn to cast off the yoke of capitalist Washington, just as those of Krasnovia secretly wish to?"

She's so confused right now. "Er, no?"

Rather be disappointed, the battlecarrier does a victorious little fist-pump. "NYET! YOUR HESITANCE IS ANSWER ENOUGH TOVARISHCH!"

At least she's not as confused as Krasnovia.

"You are my ally of convenience, my kapitalisticheskaya svin'ya-sobaka rival! But one day, I know that within that amerikansky heart of yours, you too will finally awaken your own burning flames of socialism! Just as I once did!"

"Oh god, I hope not."

Krasnovia just grins, before spotting something over Frankland's shoulder.

"Razboynik!"

As the battlecarrier steps past her and eagerly pursues her fellow Russian, Frankland watches with no small amount of confused disbelief as Krasnovia then picks up her "Comrade Large-ish One", and begins to carry the destroyer leader around like a mildly annoyed cat. With the BBV now wholly engrossed in loudly telling the resigned Project 47 Class about her newly discovered potential for repressed communist sentiment, and a fifth column movement to one day arise on American soil, Frankland can't help but allow a helpless smile as she shakes her head.

At least if there's one universal constant in life, it's that Krasnovia's too nutty to ever actually be phased by anything. A strangely comforting sentiment, no matter how annoying or baffling it is. Krasnovia is being unflappably insane, all is right with the world.

Unable to resist the slight smile at the familiarity of the exasperation, Frankland turns back around, returning to her task at hand. Her next objective is the contents of the pantry, but before she can check it, she then realizes she has another conversation partner approaching.

"Cahokia?"

The blonde, currently in civilian clothes, pauses and then sighs, a sound laden down with resigned annoyance.

"That's going to be our lives now isn't it?"

Frankland shifts with awkwardly apologetic embarrassment.

"Not Cahokia then?"

The AACL pulls back a lock of hair to show her earnings of metal rather than feathers, as well as her face markings in cooler colors. "I'm Pine Barrens."

"Ah, sorry. My bad." Frankland trails awkwardly, but the Super-Atlanta shakes her head and forges on.

"That actually ties in a little to what me and the others were wanting to ask."

"Oh?" The battleship raises an eyebrow. "Ask away."

The automatic-loading twin 5"/54 gun armed cruiser shuffles with mild embarrassment. "Do you think we'd be able to go to a mall or something? It's just that well.... They were only expecting one of us, and so we were hoping that rather than taking up more dorm-containers, we could just buy a couple of bunks and share the one unit we already have."

Frankland then raises an eyebrow as she sees one of the other Cahokia-clones (one of the two raven haired ones) wandering over with a set of sticky notes. Seeing Pine Barrens slap the the first one with her name hastily scrawled on it upon her shirt, the second one (apparently the Apache styled Superstition Mountain), then looks to Frankland as well.

"Actually it would also probably be a good idea to get some more civie clothes. There's stuff here, but it's kind of with the idea in mind that there would only be one of us. Some more clothes so we don't have to share, and other people can actually tell us apart would be kind of nice."

Starring at the two sextuplets, Frankland then smiles.

It looks like she has her excuse.

-----------------------

Adventuring party assembled for this impending trip to the mall, Frankland now faces her next challenge. Actually leaving the base.

"You guys want to go outside?" Eyeing the formidable fleet that has now announced the staple of American suburban-wasteland culture as their intended destination, the two guards in the disguised entrance foyer of the converted department store now eye each other nervously.

To the side, Sankt Walpurga growls irritably. "What's the matter? A girl can't go out to unwind? Or were all those promises to let's us do as we wished a bunch of quatsch?"

"No, no, no-" the nervous wizard answers, holding up his hands appeasingly, and seemingly very aware of how little he could actually do to stop them anyway. "We're fine with you guys going out for food or supplies and what not, it's just.... We didn't think you'd all be going out at once."

Uncertainly, his companion eyes the group's current composition of a battleship, battlecarrier, battlecruiser, heavy cruiser, six light cruisers, and six destroyers.

"Is that going to be a problem?" asks Sankt Walpurga with a much less diplomatic tone and glare than Frankland would prefer.

"N-Not at all- just surprised, is all."

Trying at least somewhat to keep the peace, Frankland speaks up, determined not to burn bridges where she doesn't have to just yet. "Is there a time or curfew, or anything we should be aware of or back by?"

The wizard shakes his head. "The gate's open all hours. Just as long as you give a heads up for how long you expect to be gone if it's for most of the day."

Sankt Walpurga glares coldly. "I think we may have a fair amount of shopping to do. Some of us need to replace all of our worldly possessions after all."

The wizard shifts awkwardly under her gaze, and while the shadows of his hood obscure his features, the agent's hesitant fear is noticable.

"Do you want to borrow a van?" he asks in a rather small voice "Or a map?"

"We can manage."

As the German capital ship coldly storms off with all the warmth of a Baltic gale and dismissively pulls her phone out of her pocket to begin loading up Google Maps, the gate guard's partner then uncertainly looks to the rest of the group while offering a set of keys.

"Um.... I'm not sure if anybody told her or the rest of you guys yet, but it's like twelve miles to the nearest decent mall. It's not all that noticeable in here, but we are in a relatively isolated area, for obvious reasons. Doesn't help that it's hot as hell out there eithe-"

Abruptly, the doors open, revealing a blank faced Walpurga as she marches back into the store. Loosely held in her off hand, the app on her phone happily marks out the twelve and a bit miles worth of directions she will need to take to get to her requested destination. Spying the keys being offered to Frankland, the Battlecruiser then appropriates them for herself.

"I'll drive."

Turning around however, she then gives a start when she realizes the keys are no longer in her hand.

"Was zur Hölle?"

"I'll drive."

Jumping in shock, Walpurga then spins around to discover Abraham Potter behind her, lazily spinning the keys she just took on one finger.

"Stop doing that! And give me the keys back!"

The German panzerschiff glares furiously.

Abraham stares.

After few moments, the redhead then finally nervously averts her gaze from the smaller girl's unreadable Amber orbs.

"F-Fine then. I-It's not like I wanted to drive anyway. You dummkofs would have probably messed up the directions or my phone while I was trying to drive."

Seeing the USN DDL nod and with superiority now established, the German sulkily follows after, accompanied by the rest of the group.

Watching the group exit out into the blazing West Coast sun and the heat radiating off of the carpark of the defunct Kmart store they have taken over, one of the entrance guards then looks to the other uncertainly.

"Are we really going to let the little girl drive?" he asks with confused hesitance.

His friend just stares at him and points. "Do you want to want to be the one to tell the little girl she can't drive?"

"Point taken," he mumbles as the doors close on the departing shipgirls. Waiting for a few moments to make sure they aren't coming back or glancing in their direction, the wizard shoots his friend an awkward look. "So.... Do you reckon they're actually going to come back?"

His fellow guard simply grimaces beneath his hood.

-----------------------

Arriving at their chosen destination, the group begins piling out of the magically modified van, enchanted to be larger on the inside than it actually should be.

As the fleet in civilian disguise disembark however, the already uncomfortable looking Duc de Danzig holds the satchel bag she brought above her head, in lieu of the shield she dismissed along with the rest of her rigging earlier. As the burning sun beats down on them, and radiates back up off the tarmac however, the French Destroyer looks to be increasingly regretting that decision.

"Merde alors! This heat is unbelievable!"

"Welcome to San Diego," mutters Unzen as she squints upward at the ball of burning hatred of the sky.

Normally a veteran of the North Sea, the Northern Atlantic, and even occasionally outright Arctic waters, Sankt Walpurga looks to be suffering even worse than her French counterpart, who is at least used to the Mediterranean and more equatorial Atlantic adventures. "Only you Americans would be so stupid as to build a city in a place obviously not meant for humans."

"Technically," corrects one of the Cahokia-clones (Frankland's pretty sure it's Katzimo this time), "this is more San Marcos than San Deigo."

"Wait-" Frankland herself then frowns at that statement, and then glances Abraham Potter. "Why did we come north? This is almost more the Marine's stopping grounds than the Navy's."

"Exactly," Answers the modified Somers class, who then points back at the rest of the group.

Following the DDLs gaze, Frankland observes for a moment just how odd and eye catching their group is simply thanks to the palette-swap sisterhood of the Cahokia-clones and the even more carbon-copy-of-each-other Thames and Ushant. Never mind Sankt Walpurga is muttering to herself in German and looking like she is about to melt, Z-59 doing a very poor job of looking inconspicuous due to spending 90% of her time hiding in other people's shadows, Duc de Danzig repeatedly checking behind other people for the aforementioned destroyer/rival, and then there is Sovetskaya Krasnovia and Razboynik.....

Frankland watches as the battlecarrier waylays the white-haired destroyer for a moment, almost buckling her knees as she claps a hand on her fellow Russian shoulder's unexpectedly. Pulling her close as if to share some important word of cautious advice, Krasnovia then gestures at the super mall surrounding the carpark they have parked in, like commercial mountains around a great plain of asphalt and automotives.

"Look upon it comrade Razboynik. An American Strip Mall. Never will you find a greater hive of exploitative capitalist greed and covetous bourgeois materialism. We must be cautious my Large-ish friend."

Noticed by Krasnovia, Razboynik simply sighs and facepalms.

Frankland meanwhile, looks to the ever unfazed Abraham Potter. "Okay, point taken. We stick out like sore thumbs. Hopefully this close to Jarhead territory, people won't recognize why we do."

-----------------------

They're browsing through what's on offer in the freezer section of the supermarket, trying to assemble the building blocks for a potential dinner of their own making for the group, without worry of tampering, when Frankland finally plucks up the nerve to talk to her friend.

Unzen's always been something of a paradox, in that you can't always tell what she is thinking, and yet she still wears her emotions on her sleeve. Right now Frankland reflects, it isn't hard to figure out what's on her friend's mind.

It's when they're in the middle of fishing around in the freezer for frozen chickens, that the battleship checks to makes sure there's no one else around and some relative privacy, before quietly placing a hand on Unzen's shoulder. Having been unusually silent all morning, the heavy cruiser pauses, before finally sighing.

"I know what you're going to ask me.... and to be honest, the answer is no. Not really."

Frankland looks at her friend worriedly. "Do you... want to talk about it?"

Unzen curls her hands into fists and shakes her head as she drops her gaze to the floor. "I'll be okay. It's just- I feel so confused. I don't know what to feel."

"That's fair," says Frankland as she gives her friend's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Just.... Whenever you do want to talk about anything, I'm here alright?"

The heavy cruiser bites her lip guiltily. "No, what I.... what I mean is.... I just feel so angry and helpless that almost everything, everyone, I knew was some kind of lie. I never got to fire my guns as a steel hull, even in MACUSA service, which I never got remembered for it because it was so secretive, so I thought I had a chance to actually achieve something coming back. I started off hopeless, but worked hard, training myself up to shoot with the best of them, and throw torps better than some destroyers. And now feel like I've been stabbed in the back, and betrayed, and that everything was for nothing, because none of it ever actually happened, and it was all basically the equivalent of Matrix skill-uploads in a Hyperbolic Time Chamber. And yet...."

Frankland raises a curious eyebrow. "And yet?"

"I feel.... relieved. Like so much guilt has been lifted from me, even though I know it shouldn't."

"Wait, really?"

Unzen nods and looks at her hands. "You know where and how I was built, right?"

Frankland grimaces. "Magical shipyard at the end of the war by slave labourers, right?"

"Exactly," says the Type 1941 Circle Six Heavy Cruiser design, her voice almost a whisper. "There was so much suffering. So much pointless violence, torture, and death. All my life, I thought I owed my existence to the pain and dehumanisation of others in a place that was almost more a hell than a shipyard."

"And now you know that's not true," observes the battleship quietly.

Unzen nods. "It's.... A weight off my shoulders. Off of my soul almost. Even if it's not entirely gone, since I know they probably would have already had all the 'labour' assembled if they already had all the materials gathered and components under construction before laying my actual keel."

The heavy cruiser wrings her hands and looks up at Frankland shakily. "So as much as it hurts to realize no one else aside from you guys ever actually knew me... A-At least not as many people had to suffer in this world. Th-That balances things out, right?"

Frankland can hear the fragility behind the question.

Instead of answering, she simply pulls her friend into a hug.

Unzen doesn't cry, ever maintaining her titan's grip on her expressions and composure. But if her breathing is unusually forced and even in between the occasional hitches while she has her face buried in the taller kanmusu's collar? Well, Frankland just happens to be preoccupied with ignoring the occasional shopper who nears them.

After a minute or two, Unzen then finally pulls back with a shaky breath.

"Th-Thanks Frankland. I guess.... I guess I did need that."

"Don't worry about it. That's what friends are for, right?" The battleship then smiles. "You can then be there for me, when I finally process everything by getting blind drunk once we get back."

The heavy cruiser snorts. "Maybe I should join in," she observes offhandedly.

The two of them share a look, before then slowly bursting into helpless chuckles. After a few moments however, Unzen then pauses as her gazes shifts to something behind Frankland.

Turning around to see what has captured her attention, the battleship then discovers Abraham Potter apparently waiting for them, a quietly respectful distance away for them to finish.

"Aby?" asks the blonde battleship curiously, causing the Destroyer to look up from the shiny new android tablet she has acquired from somewhere. The destroy then nods in greeting as she approaches.

"Frankland. Unzen."

"Hey Aby. What's up?"

What's up, apparently causes the destroyer to silently express a range of different expressions in the span of only a few moments. "I've been digging, pretty much since the moment we arrived in the real world. And I think while we're away from prying eyes or ears, this is actually about as good of a place and time to lay everything we all known on the table."

Something about the destroyer's statement makes the battleship's eyes widen in surprise.

"Wait, they didn't actually send anyone to keep an eye on us?"

The destroyer shrugs. "As far as I can tell? Not a person. We could have ditched the van and taken buses all the way to 32nd Street Naval Station in San Diego, and they would have been none the wiser."

As Frankland frowns, trying to figure that new piece of information into everything they 'know', have been told, and have confirmed so far, the destroyer thumbs in the direction of the main portion of the mall. "When you're done with the shopping here, meet me in the food court. There's an out of the way alcove where we should be able to talk without any risk of eavesdroppers getting close, while the background noise should make most listening equipment or spells ineffective."

As the destroyer leader wanders off and leaves the two capital ships to finish their shopping and consider her invitation and these knew developments, neither notices the pair of emerald eyes, watching the exchange through the can filed shelves of a nearby isle with careful sharpness.

-----------------------

CL-155 Pine Barrens browses the through the clothing section of the department store idly, occasionally picking up and examining anything that catches her eye.

She says 'idly', as occasionally she has to pause and consider what she's looking at and why. Throughout the store, she can not just sense her sisters, in the same why that other shipgirls can through acoustics, radar and other such technological sixth senses on land, but she can also sense them specifically.

It's only now, while out, and about, and ranging separately, that they've begun to notice it. What was at first just taken to at first be the typical intuition and recognition of each other's thoughts and emotions born from being sextuplets, if not out right clones of each other, is increasingly obvious as something more. All of them can vaguely 'know' where and what direction the others are in at any one time. More than that however, are the flashes of thought and memory. Brief glimpses and insights that are increasingly not just some form of sisterly perception, and more almost like fragments of brief 'twin telepathy'.

Of maybe it's more like a hive mind, considering there's six of them.

Pine barrens pauses, as she then senses a brief spell of amusement from the direction of Cahokia. A mild entertainment, that then turns to satisfaction, before fading. Curious, Pine Barrens begins meandering her way through the store, searching for her sister to find what was so funny. On the way however, she then pauses as something catches her eye. A table full of hoodies, all in different colors, bearing the tag-line "World's Okayest Sailor".

Looking at if for a moment and snickering in amusement, Pine Barrens checks the available sizes, and to her pleasant surprise, find a bunch of different colors that fit would her perfectly. On a lark, the grinning Anti-Aircraft Cruiser grins and then grabs one of the grey ones, before heading off to the changing rooms to try it on.

Only a few moments later, CL-156 Katzimo then arrives, searching for for her sister, and wondering what could have caught her interest and entertained her so.

On the way however, she then pauses as something catches her eye.

-----------------------

Arriving in the Food Court after dropping off their purchased supplies of food stuffs in the borrowed MIB van, it doesn't take Unzen and Frankland long to locate the smallest American member of their party.

What they don't expect however, is who is sitting beside her.

"What took you two faulpelz so long?!" exclaims Sank Walpurga irritably as she slouches in a chair beside Abraham potter and slurps from a Big Gulp full of Fanta. "If we'd been waiting here any longer, I would have started to worry about getting barnacles!"

Unzen stares in mild surprise and disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

The panzerschiff sits up somewhat, and holds herself with proud importance. "What I'm doing here, is finding out whether or not I want to go back to Germany."

Abraham Potter pauses in her fishing around at the bottom of her box of Chinese takeout and raises a curious eyebrow, but otherwise remains silent as the red head imperiously levels her gaze at the other two Americans.

"And to inform that decision," she demands more than asks, "what I want to know is how much of what we've been told over the last two days is drum und strang."

At that moment, Abraham Potter then interrupts with a dubiously raised eyebrow.

"But you don't want to go back to Germany."

"What?!" The destroyer leader's statement causes disbelief and confusion from Frankland and Unzen, while Sankt Walpurga narrowly avoids simultaneously choking and spit-taking. The Somers Class however, continues.

"You wouldn't go back to Germany. Sure, you'd probably drop what you know off with the USN because your conscience, but then what? You hate Germany."

Now the Zenker Class Battlescruiser looks incensed, and turns to the smallest american present, eyes practically aflame.

Not so metaphorically however, one of them is in fact now more yellow than emerald.

"And what," she asks with cold fury, "would ever give you that idea."

-----------------------

CL-157 Bermuda pauses, as she then senses a brief spell of amusement from the direction of Katzimo. A mild entertainment, that then turns to satisfaction, before fading. Curious, Bermuda begins meandering her way through the store, searching for her sister to find what was so funny. On the way however, she then pauses as something catches her eye. A table full of hoodies, all in different colors, bearing the tag-line "World's Okayest Sailor".

Looking at it for a moment and snickering in amusement, Bermuda checks the available sizes, and to her pleasant surprise, find a bunch of different colors that fit would her perfectly. On a lark, the grinning Anti-Aircraft Cruiser grins and then grabs one of the red ones, before heading off to the changing rooms to try it on.

Only a few moments later, CL-158 Superstition Mountain then arrives, searching for for her sister, and wondering what could have caught her interest and entertained her so.

-----------------------

Frankland tenses, and out of the corner of her eye, the battleship can also see Unzen's hands moving, readying to flip the table should anything happen, but likely equally aware and worried for the rather public and civilian rich environment they are currently in.

Abraham Potter however, is completely unfazed as she reaches into the satchel at her side, and then tosses a pile of photos onto the table. It takes the battleship to remember that more than she and Unzen who were mobile headquarters and floating bases, the small Somers class was a scout and in-plain-sight infiltrator. Blown up pictures, likely developed in the destroyer's on board photography lab by her fairies, display a host of notes and records surrounding not just Sankt Walpurga, but all of them as well.

Looking at one in particular, Walpurga then flinches. "Was zum Teufel war das?"

Seeing the thing in the photo as well, Frankland cringes too. "What the fuck Aby?"

The destroyer however, stares at the German panzerschiff unreadably. "You know what that is."

"Northern Raider Princess died!" she hisses. "I then came back!"

"While their methods succeeded in protecting them for a worst case scenario, and allowed for resolving the situation through convenient crafting of what you saw and went through in there, it's not the same as whatever 'purification' the spirit goes through during the real thing."

"I am real!" roars Sankt Walpurga, the yellow glow of her left eye intensifying. "Ich bin echt!"

Noticing Unzen glancing around, the German then rounds on the Heavy Cruiser in turn.

"And what the hell is your problem?!?"

Freezing, Unzen then taps at the side of her own face by way of explanation. "E-Eye- People might see-"

From a moment, the battlecruiser seems to simmer furiously. An explosion on the verge of actually happening. And then like an undone balloon, Sankt Walpurga slowly sinks in on herself, quietly looking at the floor with self-recrimination.

"We always wondered why that happens.... why I have such a temper... why... why I can't forgive.... And now I know...." Giving a sigh filled heavily with disappointment and self-recrimination, her eye begins to shift, returning from it's acid yellow tint back to her original vibrant emerald.

Abraham looks at her with a mixture of apologetic sympathy. "I wish I didn't have to bring this up. But I thought it better that you know now, rather than from someone you don't trust."

"Trust?" Her fire now burned out, Sankt Walpurga gives a depreciative snort. "Who should I trust?"

"Us, of course!" declares Frankland emphatically.

The battlecruiser meanwhile just looks down and fiddles with the straw of her Big Gulp. "Sure, why not. I'll just throw my lot in with you bunch then. Weltverbesserin, the lot of you." Her expression then darkens. "They say the world's in danger and you can protect it from it's evils, so of course you bleeding hearts are all on board despite the obvious manipulations and self-interests at play. And then at the end of the day, I'm sure our honor shall be our loyalty."

Shadowed by the sins of her own fabricated past and the plausibility of the history surrounding it, Unzen can't help but flinch at the phrase. Frankland however, looks at the battlecruiser in confused disbelief.

"What the hell Walpurga? Where is this coming from?"

The Zenker class is silent for a long moment, gaze practically burning a hole in her Big Gulp. "I was built to serve the Weimar, and in particular, it's magicals. For almost ten years, I was the pride of the fleet. Even Scharn and Gnies, though better armored than me, had smaller guns, and only a similar size secondary broadside that was in fact less protected."

Her glare then intensifies. "And then I was dethroned. Along came Bismarck, and suddenly she was the one everyone was impressed with. Suddenly I wasn't important anymore. I was just another panzerschiff. But it was worse than that. Because not only was I was a fast panzerschiff, but one filled with magicals, that made me that much more reliable. That much more 'lucky'. My crew and I went from being something important, cared for, and to be praised, to something that was useful and convenient. They fought so hard- I fought so hard. We thought we were doing- fighting for something right, and earning back not just a reunited Germany's place and pride on the world stage, but also our own in the eyes of the nation and Kriegsmarine in the process."

Unzen and Frankland both jump as Sankt Walpurga then slams a fist down on the table, shaking it with her fury. "And it was all for NOTHING!" she rages, eye now ablaze with yellow once more.

"Lügen und müll! Magical or muggle, it didn't matter. We fought and died for the poison promises of madmen!" Looking down, the redhead gives a shuddering breath. "So many battles nobody would know because of the Statute or their classified nature. So many missions that were either forgotten, or really were just wastes looking back. So many tasks we carried out, for people we didn't know or ends I would hate to learn. That I sometimes lie awake at night fearing- It was all so pointless! And nobody would remember because of so many of those missions magical natures. And.... And nobody still does... did I suppose."

Her fury quelling as her emotional roller coaster calms down and slows once more, Sankt Walpurga looks at the table with tandem green eyes once more. Softly, Abraham Potter speaks up.

"They only crafted the major points and events of our pasts. It's technically only a result of our minds trying to tie everything together, that we flesh out many of the finer details and emotions behind what we recall."

The panzerschiff sniffs and rubs at her eyes, but nervertheless stares down the destroyer proudly unbowed and tearless.

"I don't care if it was all fake. I don't care if I never actually was just tossed aside and cut up for scrap, after spending all my whole life fighting for men casting a nation into the dark in their own attempts to unite it, or save it, or preserve for what was already past, and then for vile scum promising us that we would make it great again. I refuse to ever charge off into another fight, simply on the word of people I have no reason to consider not potentially serving their own self-interests."

Quietly, Sankt Walpurga then looks at the three ships with the longest running histories tying them to MACUSA and the Magical Investigation Bureau among the group summoned, and thus the the most potential facts to cross-check and reference from. "I wouldn't trust those fickfehler help me move house without using the oppotunity to engineer an 'accidental' flagellation of someone with my cactus, so don't bother convincing me."

The german red head then looks between the three of them with quiet coldness as her gaze narrows. "What I want to know, is if I should even trust whatever the fuck it is you three believe as well."

Unzen pauses, uncertain what to say, and glances at Frankland who sees to be considering things carefully.

Abraham Potter however, then reaches out to the pile of blown up photos of notes on the table, and then quietly tugs it free. On it, is a list of different names, with one of what seem to be a number of locations listed alongside each one. Another photo then comes free, showing a map of the Pacific, dotted with different colored circles. A few closer to the US mainland and Hawaii are circled with green. A few more further out, are circled with yellow. Deep in the pacific, and the depths of hostile Abyssal territory, the coding turns to orange. Scattered among the locations circled in orange however, are two locations marked with red crosses instead, and a third with a crimson question mark.

"I believe... three things," says the Destroyer Leader carefully "The first, is that at least in a broad sense, everything they tell us and have implanted in our minds, is generally correct, or something of a reasonable inference for potential historical butterflies from our presence in the timelines we remember. There's probably a lot of strange gaps of logic, lack of presence, reaction, or consequence for things we either did or for some reason didn't get to do, because they wanted our memories to remain largely correct to the magical and nomaj historical records of reality."

"Because that gives me such joy to know I wasn't potentially used to smuggle heinous people and cargoes to South America under the guise of raiding missions," snips Walpurga.

Abraham however, ignores her and continues on. "The second thing, is that they are likely telling the truth about needing us to find these archives and cashes. Too many notes line up. Too many background discussions unrelated to this project confirm what seems to be in portions of the memories we've gained, as background events in our steel hull lives. And then there's a level of fear, concern, and strongly felt emotion in many of the older veterans involved in this and the people they sourced their facts from, that goes beyond just professionalism or duty, meaning it's likely this isn't something crafted wholesale or even that heavily or divergently modified to create what we know."

Frankland grimaces. "So the cans of doom for potential "Project Fuck the World" weapons in the event another war broke out, actually do exist. Great."

Unzen meanwhile shifts nervously. "I never visited any of those places though. I remember a lot of weird and terrible things coming out of Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, and even a few things stolen from China on occasion, but I never actually dropped them off myself."

A spark of realization then ignites in her eyes. "My fairies though..."

The Somers Class Destroyer Leader nods. "Which confirms what I think was their back up plan all along. Whether we stick with them or go. We know about at least some of these things, and their locations."

"Beschissen!" Sankt Walpurga pales in realization as something occurs to her while she looks at some of the photgraphed notes. "If they know I'm not loyal and don't trust them, then- was their plan always for someone to leak it to the muggle navies?"

The DDL looks uncertain, but shrugs. "The consideration has run through my mind, but how much is a planned certainty, or simply a back up of pragmatic desperation considered acceptable with the fall of the statute immanent, is difficult to tell. At the very least though, they were careful about who knows what. Those more likely to feel ties to nations or places on the east coast, of course know more about the Atlantic."

"I'm not sure if that makes me trust these arschlochs any more or less than I already do."

Frankland glances at Unzen curiously. "Which would explain why you never knew about Project Ragna Rok."

Sankt Walpurga pales and blinks in surprise. "I-I remember once transporting crates for something related to that...."

Unzen meanwhile, frowns in thought. "And you never knew about Sub Unit-942, but Cahokia did. She on the other hand, didn't know about the magical side of Operation Wandering Soul, but Duc de Danzig was familiar with it and most of the other things I remember coming out of Southeast Asia."

Abraham Potter nods as the trio's memories correlate with what she's found. "Almost every artifact and place we know about is shared between at least two or three of us, at least one of whom could be more inclined to stay than the others, who would usually have some connection to the region or artifact involved anyway. All of which, is also backed up by enough minor background details beyond the notes for our creation and records I've managed to uncover, to suggest they did exist."

"And if they existed..." considers Frankland worriedly, "Then where did they end up?"

"And if where they ended up is abyssal held....?" postulates Unzen.

"Then what's to stop an Abyssal from finding or stumbling across them?" finishes Sankt Walpurga, mouth dry as she considers the some of the things she was used to move or aid during the war, and the possibility they they were simply moved by normal ships or other magical means in the reality she has now found herself in.

"There's one more thing." The trio's attention, is then drawn back to Abramham Potter, who now sports a worried grimace. "That third thing I believe?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you guys remember the Mad Scientist Princess?"

Unzen growls. "Kinda hard not to, the Orochimaru-lite bitch."

The Destroyer Leader's expression is drawn. "Well.... there's evidence to suggest that she knows of at least two of the caches. Maybe three. And she's looking."

Sankt Walpurga voices what they're all thinking, with a volatile stream of vulgar German invectives.

-----------------------

All is right in the world for Razboynik.

She's managed to score some nice Adidas runners from a store in the mall. Found a few different sets of comfortable matching track pants and track jacket to just lounge around in when off duty. And now she has some headphones, from which she can now blast hardbass playing off of her phone, while lazily waiting for her turn against either Thames or Ushant.

As the twins battle it out on the arcade machine, and Ushant rapidly proves more prodigious at digital zombie head shots than her racing inclined sister, somebody steps into her field of vision. The Russian then starts slightly, as she realizes Duc de Danzig is right up in her face, lips moving, but drowned out by the hardbass thundering through the noise-cancellers over her ears. Vaguely, Razboynik can catch faint pieces of her question, in the brief breaks between notes where her French-American accent comes through.

In reality though, she already has a pretty good idea of what (or more correctly, who) Duc de Danzig is looking for. Lazily, she then points deeper into the arcarde.

The French destroyer grins eagerly, and says something that is probably some form of knightly exuberant thanks, before then saluting with a campy flourish and charging off in the direction indicated.

A few moments later, Z-59 then peers nervously out of the photo booth Razboynik has been leaning against the entire time. Looking at the Project 70 Destroyer Leader, her eyes almost seem to water with emotional relief as she then nervously professes what are probably thanks of her own.

Razboynik just rolls her eyes.

It's too bad they're just lying low and trying to pretend to be a bunch of normal teenage girls at the mall right now. With how stupidly hot it is, even in the airconditioned arcade, she wouldn't mind some good vodka or a nice chilled glass of kompot right now.

-----------------------

"Hey guys, what's up?"

The instant Cahokia approaches the table in a black hoodie bearing the title 'World's Okayest Sailor', her expression then turns nervous as she takes in the atmosphere hanging over the group.

Quietly, Frankland and Abraham Potter share glances as if having a silent discussion. Meanwhile, Unzen looks like she wants to weigh in with an opinion of her own but doesn't feel she has a place to, and Sankt Walpurga seems to be on a low simmer as she looks ready to demand answers.

Finally, the battleship then speaks up. "Cahokia.... we've been... talking. Trying to correlate what we know, figure out what's true, what's actually going on, what's going to happen next, and the like. But we need to ask you something."

"Ask away," offers the Anti-Aircraft Cruiser with a nervous smile, even as she spreads her arms in a gesture of openness.

Frankland gives one last uncertain glance at Sankt Walpurga, who then raises a questioning eyebrow in return, before the battleship then sighs. "So far, we've been trying to figure out what's the story with these caches and archives that have MACUSA so terrified of having them found, they'd turn to making shipgirls as an emergency immediate solution. But if these things are filled with so many horrific and potentially disasterous things, then how hard are they to actually get into? How vulnerable are they, and why us as a solution rather than anything else? Why not, say, a Phoenix bomb or an Ofuda coated Katie-shell?"

Cahokia glances at the group uncertainly. To Frankland and Unzen's shock and disbelief, they then realize just how obviously she is trying to weasel out of actually saying anything. "Can't you guys just... I dunno, ask your fairies?"

"Technically we can," admits Unzen. "But there's one archive in particular that only you and me seem to know of, and I've never actually been there myself. I only have what may fairies and made up crew supposedly know and saw."

Cahokia shuffles awkwardly. "And why should anything I remember be any more useful when it's just as made up as what you know?"

"Because for one thing," says Abraham Potter, "Anything you actually 'remember' seeing, would have to be far more perfectly replicated and true. Assembled from a collective memory of many, where any edits or errors would stand out or self correct, rather from a single fairy who could potential be mistaken about details or give misleading pieces of infomation. One who was afterall, also willing to edit their memories to allow our creation. Comparing what you know with what Unzen knows, should hopefully ascertain some level of validity for both your memories if the facts are the same."

The AACL glances at Sankt Walpurga yet again, now revealing at least part of the source for her unease. "Should she really be here? I mean... this is kind of a national security secret, and no offence or anything, but you didn't seem like you wanted to stick aroun-"

The battlecruiser cuts her off with a growl. "What I want to know, is how bad of a shitstorm in a bottle is this. We all know this is bad, and generally what's where. We know this. But we don't know why or how exactly these places could be at risk from the Abyssals if by the nature of their contents, they must have been reasonably secure. Could they just be stumbled upon? Are there enchantments to renew? Are you Americans paying rent to some kind of local dark god, who's going to be wondering where the rent money is or who the squatters are? What is the actual deal with these places?"

"These places...." Now looking highly uncomfortable, Cahokia glances at Unzen and Frankland, the other long time and major veterans of MIB usage with ties to the archives and off-shore blacksites of the Pacific and Atlantic.

The Heavy Cruiser then levels a look at her smaller counterpart. "I might know of many of these Pacific locations, but there is one of them that seems to be that much more important than the rest, to the degree that I apparently never had a good enough reason to actually go there. What's there Cahokia?!"

With a final sigh, the Light Cruiser approaches the table and sinks into a chair. Noting the photographs on the table and spying one in particular, she then taps a finger upon the lone red question mark on the blown up map. "There's only one blacksite I know, that, would terrify MACUSA to the degree they might consider a group of dubiously loyal assets capable of rules-lawyering their way around the Statute, if not breaking it, an acceptable possibility in a worst case scenario."

"Site Mu," declares Cahokia with a quiet whisper. "Named not for the Greek letter as everyone tends to think, but the island the place was once a part of."

Sankt Walpurga boggles at the declaration. "Wait, Mu? Mu as in the Lost Continent of Mu? That Mu?"

"I don't know if that place was ever actually a continent like the nomajs once postulated," admits Cahokia. "But from what I know, or was told, or whatever you want to call it, Site Mu is built upon the remains of a larger island that once used to be bigger."

"Used to be?" asks Frankland curiously.

Cahokia nods. "What I saw when I supposedly transported something there from Korea, was that Site Mu at first looks like one smaller island in a ring made up of a few sunken bits of atoll, when it is actually all one larger island. Site Mu is in fact the rim of an undersea volcano. One that can be magically commanded to rise or sink in comand."

Sankt Walpurga stares. "What? How the hell does that work?" Seeking confirmation, she then turns to Unzen. "Does this mesh with what you know too?"

The heavy cruiser nods, while Frankland gestures for Cahokia to elaborate. With a sigh, the light cruiser does.

"It does so very slowly. Something that is one part necessity so it doesn't cause a tsunami, and another part intentional as a security measure."

"Why?" asks Frankland curiously.

Abraham Potter's gaze however, light's up with a flash of realization. "Because the interior of the caldera would be the next security measure."

Cahokia nods. "It's a bit hard to steal from or break into a place without being noticed, when it involves not only an entire freaking ring-island emerging, but the center of that ring then becoming molten. Enchantments and security measures maintain a solidified lava plug when it's underwater, and then remove the plug to reveal a lake of lava when it's above the surface. The storage facilities for Site Mu's artifact caches and archives, are themselves suspended from the ruins of an ancient magical structure that can rise or descend from the center of the lake."

"That sounds like a lot of potential points of failure in storage if something were to go wrong," observes Sankt Walpurga.

"That's because the system was designed with asset denial in mind," admits Cahokia. "In the event anyone ever tries to steal anything, or the contents of a storage facility seem like they might break out, in a worst scenario the individual chambers can be jettisoned from the original Muvian structure and it's protective enchantments, and dropped into the magma chamber."

Frankland gives an appreciative whistle. "Well, that's one way to kill things with fire."

Cahokia nods. "There's just one problem with the system. Very little about it is actually automated. Almost everything in manually controlled from a base on the largest island in the atoll, which is actually the highest side of the crater. Not a bad idea if you want to protect against spies or infiltrators looking to steal, if the only way to access the place, and the controls to retrieve anything without sending it to the center of the earth, are all in one heavily guarded place."

"On the other hand," mutters Sankt Walpurga, "It's a nightmare waiting to happen, if all the guards were killed off, are dead from lack of supplies, or fled during the early war, and the enemy is now looking for the place."

"Exactly," admits Cahokia.

"What's to stop any Abyssals from just stumbling on to the island." asks Frankland.

The AACL winces. "A lot of the usual charms really, but then it starts getting iffy. The place was made to not be easily located by humans, but at the same time, you still needed to have rotations of guards, archivists, researchers, and supplies coming and going every month. You can't Fidelus something that big and with that many people, so instead they just made it really hard to find or get to. Mu itself is unplottable, but more than that, it's almost impossible to travel directly to."

"How so?"

"There's a huge, and I mean dozens of miles huge, apparition dead zone around the place. Likewise, there's no Floo, you can't portkey, you can't scry, not even house elves can pop in and out. The only way to get to and from Site Mu, is via flight or ship, and even then space is screwy on the border if you don't follow a certain path. In the old days, there was a small fishing boat, magically preserved and permanently at anchor, that most people used as an arrival point outside the wards."

Frankland frowns. "Well, that doesn't sound easy to find at least."

Cahokia however, shakes her head. "Sure, if all the wards are actually working right. These are powerful enchantments trying to piggy back off of older, more ancient and worn magics, with the 'modern' protections themselves dating back to the Spanish-American War when it was taken by MACUSA. They're supposed to be renewed at least once every ten years, and if the scheduling I remember remained the pattern here IRL, then the last time Site Mu's wards would have been re-cast and updated, would have been in 1996."

"Nine years befor the war," observes Frankland.

"And it's been eight years since," points out Unzen.

Sankt Walpurga swears. "Schiesse, it's been seventeen years since they were last updated then."

"That's not including the fact that the presence of Abyssals or even shipgirls in the region, could slowly whittle away at some of the mental-focused protective wards over time," points out Abraham Potter.

Cahokia nods. "Site Mu was never the kind of place intended for a prolonged seige, let alone ever envisioned as lost behind enemy territory for almost decade. It was a Pandora's Box, designed to either be flung open and it's contents unleashed on not just Americas enemies, but the world in general at the first sign of World War Three, or selectively flung into the mantle the instant any part of it so much as looked compromised during peace time. There was never any serious belief or consideration that the island might be discovered or then subverted by a hostile force MACUSA simply could not fight."

"Not like the Abyssals," observes Sankt Walpurga.

"No," admits Cahokia.

-----------------------

"So where does that leave us?" asks Sankt Walpurga, with a bite to her voice that suggests she already knows.

Holding out a hand, the red head begins counting off fingers. "The McGuffins of Doom are real. The Sealed Evil in a Six Pack liquor stores lost behind abyssal lines are real. And the nigh-impossible to kill Nerd-Queen of the Uberbitches is potentially looking for the worst one of all."

"That's about the sum of it," agrees Abraham Potter dryly.

The German redhead growls. "That still doesn't make me want to fuck off any less."

"I think at this point," says Frankland diplomatically, "the question is less 'do we want to work with them', and more 'who's support is actually useful'?"

The panzerschiff glances at the battleship with a suspicious glare. "How do you reckon that?"

Unzen is the one that answers. "Because all of us have some degree of magical capability and training. I don't think that's an accident or MIB conveniently writing what they know when making our backgrounds."

Cahokia nods in agreement. "A lot of the caches I know of, require magic to access. This isn't just a case of needing a spell to open a door or something. Anybody who actually enters facilities like Site Mu, needs to be able to cast and maintain on their own a variety of charms to be recognised by the security wards and protections. Never mind that a big chunk of Site Mu is literally a temple in a lake of lava."

"So for anybody who leaves...." considers Frankland. "Retrieving or neutralizing the bigger caches becomes almost a solo job. Unless you can grab more magic-using shipgirls for the mission, nobody can get inside with you."

Abraham Potter raises a wry eyebrow. "Somehow, I get the distinct impression the current MIB administration is only listing 'retrieval' in the mission briefs as a rote necessity, and that nobody would be all that broken up if we dropped Site Mu into the center of the earth."

"Joking aside," interrupts Cahokia, "that would be an issue in and of itself. Site Mu could take almost half an hour to actually surface, if the garrison only managed to sink it, but not destroy the storage facilities before they were overrun , disabled, or fled. You'd need a sizable force of fast and heavily armed ships to punch through the Abyssal cordon, outrace them Site Mu to begin the raising process before they can follow you into the surface base, and then hold them off outside and on the water long enough for the crater to rise and the lava plug to disintegrate enough that the storage facilities can be freely detached from the ancient Muvian temple structure."

"Even just getting to the place would be a mission in and of itself," points out Unzen as she traces the distance in the photographed map from Site Mu to the nearest friendly territory in the form of Hawaii. "At least conventionally."

Sankt Walpurga frowns. "Is raising the island really that necessary?" she asks. "What if we, oh I don't know- Sunk an ass load of explosive charges on top of it? Or had the USN throw something like a bunker buster, or even a nuclear depth charge into the water?"

Cahokia winces. "Sure, that could probably destroy Site Mu. But it would likely be less from the ordnance wrecking the storage facilities, and more from the resulting steam explosion created by the shattering of the lava plug and rune stones for the magical wards keeping the sea water away from the magma. I always wondered what the phreatic eruption that destroyed the Atlantis of Thera and created Santorini would have looked like, but I'm not that eager to replicate it and wipe out most of the Pacific with tsunamis."

The panzerschiff cringes. "Okay, so blowing up the volcano is a very, very bad idea. Duly noted."

"It would be a rather impressive, if inelegant solution to the region's Abyssal problem," quips Abraham Potter dryly.

Unzen however, frowns. "So, that's yet another nomaj solution nix'd then. As much as I don't share Walpurga's.... immense distaste and distrust, I can't help but feel that I don't like the train of logic this is following."

Frankland grimaces in agreement. "While I can say the same, you do have to acknowledge the logic of the advantages we'll need to potentially pull this off."

"You'd work with untrustworthy schweine like them?" bites out Walpurga.

To the side, Abraham Potter begins listing off factors and solutions. "We'd potentially have the word and pensieve memories of people who have actually been to these places to rely on, when planning for how to get in and out of these blacksites, rather than being stuck with only what we and our fairies know. Even if we can't get directly into the places themselves due to the wards, portkeys would give us a massive speed, surprise, and logistical advantage when planning infiltration and extraction. It also potentially means support when carrying out tasks in places were it would be preferable to have all of us directly engaged in combat against Abyssal presences in the AO, rather than having a few people removed from the fight and laden down with simply trying to access the facilities. And magic does offer a useful number of asymmetrical solutions, to what is bound to be missions filled with asymmetrical warfare and problems that will be solved with inventiveness, more than brute force."

The redhead growls. "So that's it then. Suck it up and take it. Lie back and think of Deutschland. It's convenient, and a matter of pragmatics for the greater good." For a moment, her eye threatens to shift from emerald to yellow once more, even as she quietly stews. "I'm sure Papen said something of similar effect to Hidenburg before the Machtergreifung."

The reference escapes Frankland for the moment, but never the less, she attempts to appease the mistrustful battlecruiser with authority issues. "Look, we don't have to come to a decision now. You don't have to stick with us and work with them if you feel you can't. Maybe having at least one person go AWOL might be the best plan. It's too early to make decisions when we still only know and can confirm so little."

Sankt Walpurga remains silent, looking down at the spread of photographs on the table with a range of expressions and emotions, all of them deeply troubled.

It's a look the rest of them also can't help but silently share.

-----------------------

By the time the group of planners get back to the car, they discover that the other two groups are already waiting for them. Thames, Ushant, Razboynik and are lazing about in the shadow of the van, while the Russian DD idly strums out a song on a guitar. One apparently brought by Duc de Danzig, judging by the numerous french and knight themed stickers already plastering it's body. For once, the Improved-Mogador Class Large Destroyer isn't causing some sort of chaos in search of her rival, and is happily listening to Razboynik play.

Z-59 however, is nervously watching the other five CL-154 class sisters who weren't at the meeting.

The Cahokia-clones are arguing.

And as soon as Cahokia herself sees why, she joins in.

"WHAT THE HELL GUYS?!?!" Furiously she gestures at the top she is currently wearing. "YOU STOLE MY LOOK!"

All six of them is seems, have picked up different colored versions of the same brand of hoodie, bearing the identical slogan of "World's Okayest Sailor."

Immediately the once more palette-swapped clones break out into a collective argument and shouting match with each other, now involving their base version as well. Watching the proceedings, Frankland can only facepalm.

A curious tug at her sleeve, then makes the battleship turn around. To her surprise, it is Razboynik, apparently having now finished her piece, and handed the guitar back to Duc de Danzig who is now playing some sort of flamenco instrumental. Frowning slightly, the Destroyer Leader tilts her head questioningly.

"Where's Krasnovia?"

Now it's Frankland's turn to look confused. "Wait, I thought she was with you?"

Razboynik shakes her head. "I thought she went with your group. You're the capital ships."

Frankland feels a seed of worry. "You're her young, innocent, corruptible protege. I thought she would have gone with you to protect you from the gutless evils of American capitalism and the suburban bourgeoisie?!"

Razboynik looks down at herself. Her addidas runners, her tracksuit, her headphones, her watch, and the bags of other clothes at her feet. At the top of the pile in one of the bags, Frankland can also make out a newly brought laptop and a bunch of cards with redemption codes for World of Warships. Looking back up at the battleship, the Project 70 destroyer raises an eyebrow.

"Long live Stalin," she says with a neutral monotone.

"Okay, point made," concedes Frankland. "But if she wasn't with you, and she wasn't with me, then where the hell-"

"Was zum Teufel ist das!?!"

With a sense of foreboding, the battleship has a feeling that the Germanic redhead has just answered her question. Wandering around to the other side of the van, and followed by the equally morbidly curious Razboynik, both shipgirls then freeze in disbelief at what they see.

Pulling up to them is a beat up old Cadillac, practically missing it's shocks with how low it's decrepit green bodywork is almost scraping the ground. And driving it is Sovetskaya Krasnovia, dressed up as a.... as a....

"What the actual fuck Kras.....?"

"Hey eses, what up homies. I see you all got yo threads, and now I scored us this ride to get on outta 'ere, ey ma gueys."

Frankland stares. "Wat."

The Russian battlecarrier freezes and blinks awkwardly for a moment, in realization of what she has just said. "Er...."

"Ich kann jetzt nicht denken," mutters Sankt Walpurga. "Mein gehirn ist voller fick."

Finally, Krasnovia' brain seems to re-engage as she then smiles proudly, ignoring her current state of dress.

"Glorious comrades in this fight for humanity! Now that we have acquired alternate clothing to blend in among the urban bourgeoisie of this capitalist city, I have also acquired for us transportation! Obtained at reasonable cost in amerikanets currency from upstanding young gentlemen, leading the people's revolution in their communities against the system! This heroic machine is easily the equal of any proud, soviet vehicle back home!"

The busted up Cadillac chooses that moment to loudly backfire and release a cloud of smoke.

Finally, Frankland settles on the one thing she can do.

Facepalm.

"What the hell is wrong with you Kras?! Get out there and change before somebody sees you!"

"You do not liking avtomobil' I take it?" asks Krasnovia sounding mildly confused.

"You couldn't stand out more if you dressed up like a clown and rode a unicycle! What on earth even made you think we need a new car anyway?!"

The battlecarrier pauses for a few seconds, obviously trying to process that question.

"We are.... not doing the running away like cowards then?"

"NO!"

-----------------------

Finally arriving back at the semi-abandoned and defunct Kmart store on the edge of town, it is much to the curiosity of the that along with the unmarked van the shipgirls left in earlier, now there is also now a rotting old Cadillac that accompanies them. One that throws up a shower of sparks and almost gets stuck, leaving the main road and driving up the lip of the drive to the cracked parking lot outside the front of the department store.

Curiously the guards watch, and then begin counting as the occupants of the two vehicles start dismounting.

Unfortunately, the more tight-lipped of the two is not quite fast enough to elbow his less professional friend, as all sixteen shipgirls that originally left in the morning, also return through the doors of the makeshift security check point.

"Holy shit, you all actually came back!"

Immediately the man quietens with a cowed meep as Sankt Walpurga glares.

Yet again, Frankland finds herself facepalming with a sigh.

Meanwhile, Abraham Potter silently watches all, expertly escaping the gaze and attention of everyone else, while observing in return with her unreadable bronze gaze.

 

[darthcourt10]

Lord K Omake: Walpurga being related to Skaldi

Dreamyr said:
-snip-​

I don't know if you realize this, but without context, that image for the unplayed/selected/started video kinda toes the line for anybody giving it just a glance.

Barricade said:
Ayup.
She's one of the dead Elder Princesses, and, iirc, the first to die in the entire war, 8 hours into Blood Week due to a Swedish pilot earning his way into Vahalla with one HELL of an honor guard, on wings of fire, via his kamikaze ramming his dying fighter right into her chest at close to Mach 1, after arming everything he had left on the hardpoints.

Bro won't have to pay for his drinks until the End of Days, for that stunt.

Raider herself? Didn't even manage a single kill (he didn't count as it was self-sacrifice), so got the boot into Hel's realm for being useless.

-=-

Personally, I say keep the name/don't change it. The group might find it funny/be relieved that, IRL, she went down like a chump. Also, it provides possible plot points back to Canut, and, in some ways, Skadi (before her death facing Gibraltar).​

*-*-*
"Wow... Even IRL you're all show and full of hot air."

"You went down like a chump!"

"Sh-Shut up! Dummkopfs!"

"Hey wait a minute- guys, check this out!"

"What?"

"The wiki has a family tree for her!"

"So?"

"So does this mean that since Walpurga here still has a mild case of Abyssal Disease-"

"Verdammt! Stop talking about it like it's some kind of V.D.!"

"-does that mean that she's technically their mother from another mother?"

"....."

"....."

"Ha! -ow!"

"- Fick dich ins Knie! Ess Scheisse und stirb! Bloede kuh! Geh in einem Feuer sterben!"

"Bozhe moi!!! Cover your ears comrade Large-ish one!"

"Er... what's she saying?"

"Shh- I want to write these down."

 

[darthcourt10]

Savato93

Whew. This has been a long time in the making. I hope you enjoy.

Rebuild

XXXXXXXXXX

So… this was a shipgirl's dock.

It was actually… kinda comfy-looking.

The large, tiled chamber was divided up into a number of single-person bathtubs and single group-sized pool, all littered with various soaps and scrubbing implements. It was pretty much a combination of a bathhouse and repair facility; commonly used just to cleanse one's body, but more than capable of accepting an injured shipgirl when the need arose.

A number of people were milling about in the chamber—the majority of them Abyssals. The various flagships of the Fleet of Laughter stood close together, discussing something among themselves. Supprin was off to the side with a couple of shipgirls and humans; the princess sat atop a crate made of Abyssal metal, while the others sat in simple chairs. Aside from them, there were several other of her aunts standing at the exits, on alert. Guarding the chamber.

But standing in the center of the room, in front of one of the tubs, were Hoppou and Wanko.

"Hello… Tanith, Regalia," Wanko greeted the pair as they approached. "Are you ready… for the procedure?"

Regalia spared a glance to her mother, who nodded gently. She looked back to the older Princess. "As ready as I really could be, I guess." She shook her head. "I don't think I could ever be completely prepared for something like this."

Wanko nodded. "Of course. But that is… what everyone else…" she gestured to her family around her. "…is here to… help you with."

It seemed that some of the others had become aware of her presence, as they stepped over towards the pair. "Hey, honey," Sunny called out to Regalia. "You doing alright, today?"

The Re-class shrugged weakly. "Working on it."

Ritou smiled as she stepped forward, resting a hand on Regalia's shoulder. "It's okay, Regalia. You're going to be fine." She gestured to herself and the others. "That's what we're all here to make sure of. And once you're all fixed up, things will be even better. Trust me."

Regalia relaxed somewhat with her aunt's reassurance. "Thanks, Aunt Ritou. That means a lot."

"Think nothing of it. After all, what kind of family would we be otherwise, to leave you high and dry at a time like this?" Ritou shook her head. "You may be worried about what's going to happen, but you can't let that discourage you. This is your chance to rise above your deformity, to finally live how you want to—not how you need to."

"And you'll get to sail around and… er, do boat stuff with us!" Sunny added. "You've got SO much to catch up on!"

Regalia chuckled softly. "Sure, Aunt Sunny. That sounds great."

Her two aunts smiled before stepping aside, letting she and her mother proceed. Stepping forward, Tanith gently helped her daughter down into the empty tub. "So…" Regalia said, looking to her grandmother with a questioning glance. "What all do I need to do… for this to start?"

Hoppou nodded lightly. "First step is to turn off boilers," she began as she kneeled beside the drydock. "Put Regalia into dormant state, so Hoppou can work without hurting you. It's not painful… more like falling asleep, really." She held out her hand, where a pair of imps materialized. "Here."

"Alright…" Regalia said nervously, holding out her own hand. As soon as the two tiny beings came into contact with her skin, they vanished from sight. But Regalia could very much feel them inside her hull; working their way into her citadel, her heart. "What now?"

"Now Regalia can lay down, let Hoppou's crew do their job." There was a loud thud a few meters away, where Supprin had moved her supply crate to be readily-accessible by Hoppou and Wanko. Hoppou looked to her and nodded. "Thank you. Hoppou will give back any parts and materials left over after surgery is done." Supprin shot the little Princess a thumbs-up and made her way back towards the spectators' area.

As she sat down in the dock, Regalia looked to the crate with raised eyebrows. "All that… just to fix me?"

"For family, Hoppou will spare no expense," Hoppou said simply. "Hoppou will make you the very best Re-class you can be."

"…Thank you."

Regalia laid on her back, trying to ignore the pressure in her keel as she made herself as comfortable as she could. Hopefully, it was only a matter of time before that would cease to be a problem. With a glance from Hoppou, several of the Abyssals around the dock stepped away, leaving her, Wanko, and Tanith grouped around her. "Do you have… any more questions, before we… begin?" Wanko asked.

Regalia thought about the question for a moment. "…what will I feel? When I'm under?" She eventually asked. "Will I just… experience nothing? Will I dream?"

Hoppou cocked her head. "…Hoppou supposes you'll dream. Don't know what you'll dream about, though. Most of Hoppou's girls woke up only remembering bits and pieces of what they saw during their operations."

"I see…" Regalia let out a small gasp as she felt something in her chest, almost a fluttering sensation. It lasted only a split second before fading away, leaving her feeling… less.

One of her boilers had just been shut off.

"Looks like process is starting," Hoppou said, looking at the Re-class's confused and worried expression. "Boilers need to be deactivated gradually, to prevent cascading failure. It feels funny, but just try to bear it as long as you can."

"Okay," The Re-class said weakly, holding a hand to her chest. She spoke again. "…Will I still be myself, on the other side? With so much of my body… being replaced by something else?"

"Absolutely." Hoppou nodded. "Body is not all of what you are. It will take time to adjust to new body, new shape… but Regalia will still be Regalia."

Regalia felt another boiler shut off. Her body was beginning to feel… a little heavier than before. "Mom?"

Tanith kneeled at the edge of the dock, looking down to her daughter. "Yes, Regalia?"

The Re-class reached out with a hand, trying to grip her mother's claws. Sending her intent, the Princess reached down and took her daughter's hand. "You're… you're gonna stay here… right?" Regalia asked.

Tanith nodded softly. "I promised, didn't I?"

Regalia let out a small sound of relief. "I'm sorry for doubting you, Mom. I just… wanted to make sure." She winced as the third boiler cut off, her grip on her mother's hand tightening, yet weakening at the same time. "This… this feels strange…" she whimpered.

"Don't worry," Tanith said. "It will be over soon…and then you can sleep."

Taking a deep breath, Regalia nodded. "…okay."

"For now… try to relax. Just think of what… you will do, once you are healed." Tanith was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Perhaps you can… join us on the sea… watch the sun set over… the clear, blue horizon."

"Y-yeah…" Regalia whispered, smiling weakly. "That… that sounds nice."

Her chest rose and fell gently, her breathing beginning to slow as her boilers continued to cut out, one by one. "Mom… I'm feeling… tired…" she mumbled, her eyelids heavy.

Tanith nodded. "It's alright, Regalia," She told Regalia reassuringly, fighting her hardest to keep the brittleness out of her own voice. "Just… let yourself fall asleep. Everything will be alright… when you wake up."

The Re-class squeezed Tanith's hand a little tighter. "…okay… Mom…"

Finally… the last boiler dimmed. Regalia's grip on her mother's hand went slack.

Leaning back, Tanith let out a shaky sigh. It's just an operation, she told herself repeatedly. It's completely normal. Nothing to be worried about.

I didn't just hold my daughter's hand and watch her die in front of me.

"Tanith is a good mommy." She looked up to see her mother kneeling opposite her. "You've done so much for her. But now you can take a break. Let Hoppou handle the rest."

Tanith nodded numbly. "Thank you, Mother."

"Now… Hoppou is sorry, but can Tanith move back for a minute? Need some space."

"…of course." Tanith set her daughter's hand down gingerly before rising and stepping back. Pausing, she looked to her mother. "Please… take care of her."

Hoppou simply nodded, her gaze dropping to the Re-class in front of her. The shutdown seemed to have worked without issue; she could still feel Regalia's heart within her body, dormant but stable. But there was no guarantee it would remain safe, as her frail body was slowly taken apart.

Suddenly, to everybody's surprise, Hoppou gripped one of her mittens in the other, and tugged it away.

The hand beneath was smooth and unblemished, its skin the same ivory tone as the rest of her body. Her nails were pure black, neatly trimmed. To those unfamiliar, she might seem like she wore the mittens to keep her hands clean and pretty. To anyone who could glimpse the spiritual plane, however…

Her exposed hand blazed with a negative light, almost seeming to drain the color from the world around it.

A few feet away, Wanko was suddenly very agitated at the sight of Hoppou's hand. "Little Sister… are you sure…?" she asked nervously, seemingly privy to some information that everyone else lacked. "In front of… everyone?"

Hoppou nodded solemnly. "Only way to ensure she survives procedure."

Leaning over, she held out her exposed hand over Regalia's body. For what seemed like ages, she sat like that, her hand hovering over the inert Re-class. Everyone around her held their breath—watching, waiting for something to happen.

Finally… Hoppou thrusted her arm down.

And her hand sank into Regalia's chest.

Everyone present in the chamber went absolutely still, as the Re-class's flesh rippled around Hoppou's wrist like water in a disturbed pond. As they watched, Regalia's whole body began to glow from within; from the top of her head, all the way to the tip of her tail. It started out faint, barely visible under the natural lighting of the room—but slowly, steadily, the glow began to intensify, at the same time receding from her extremities. The peculiar light was being funneled, focused into one spot.

After a minute of this gathering, the only light that remained was seated in Regalia's chest, directly beneath Hoppou's embedded hand. And that light was stunningly bright, almost painful to look at—yet nobody dared look away. Barely visible in the epicenter of the light, and undisturbed by the miniature star sitting in her face, Hoppou leaned in, gently pushing her arm further into Regalia's body. Once her arm had vanished all the way up to her elbow, she stopped.

For an instant, all was still. And then, Hoppou tugged.

Like a switch being flipped, the light that had grown to dominate the room suddenly winked out, leaving everybody blinking spots out of their eyes. At last, Hoppou lifted her arm free from Regalia's chest, leaving no trace of her actions on the flesh.

In her hand was a small, crystalline sphere, the size of a tennis ball, that shined with an inner light. Looking upon this new object, onlookers knew only one thing for certain: they were witnessing something that was, without a shadow of a doubt, alive.

Hoppou delicately examined the emerald orb, slowly turning it over in her hands. Eventually, she nodded to herself, seemingly satisfied. Rising to her feet, she looked up to Tanith silently. No words needed to be said; Tanith came forward, standing before her mother, and held out her cupped hands. Reaching up, Hoppou nested her hands in Tanith's own before slowly pulling them apart, releasing their treasure into her daughter's outstretched fingers.

As the orb touched her hands, a surge of emotion shot through the dreadnought. This object was… so alien in nature, and yet, at the same time… it was so familiar. Holding this tiny orb, memories rose from her mind of their own volition. Her first night spent sleeping together with her… guiding her through her first (and last) sea trials… working alongside her to carry out her first harvest… sitting next to one another in front of a bonfire, simply taking comfort in each other's presence.

And with every memory that flashed before her eyes, Tanith felt a sort of resonance with the orb—a recognition of the moments, experiences she had shared with her beloved child.

Tanith stared at the orb in her hands with wide eyes, captivated by its soft glow. She looked up to her mother. "This... this is—"

"Do. Not. Let her go." Hoppou clung to her daughter's wrists gently, but her grip was utterly unyielding. "You are now Regalia's anchor. Only thing stopping her drifting away from real world."

The princess looked back down at this beautiful, sparkling orb... her daughter's purest essence… and found herself gripped by a terror greater than any she had ever felt in her life.

If this orb left her hands… her daughter would fade away.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she descended to her knees, deathly afraid of jostling the mote of life she now cradled against her chest. Her voice was a hoarse whisper as she spoke to the orb. "Regalia...?"

The orb flickered and pulsed. Tanith could feel emotions not her own radiating from the life in her hands:

< confusion numbness lost alone scared >

Tanith felt a sting of pain in her chest. She had no idea what Regalia was experiencing in this instant, but she was very clearly frightened and confused. She didn't even know if her daughter could perceive the world around them in her current state. Still, she had to do something to try to comfort her. "It's... it's okay, Regalia," she told the orb quietly, reassuringly. "I'm here. I have you."

There was no response at first. After a few seconds, however, the orb's light seemed to dim in her hands. Tanith didn't actually hear it speaking to her, but the indescribable mix of emotions emanating from it could only be felt as a question:

< mommy? >

"...Yes, Regalia. Your mother is here." Tanith cooed softly, blinking away tears. "You are safe. I will protect you..." looking up, she eyed her sisters standing on either side of her, their hands on her shoulders in a supportive gesture. "WE will protect you."

The orb in Tanith's hands grew slightly warmer, its glow slowly returning.

< realization relief love wonder family >

< ...peace. >

XXXXXXXXXX

Impossible.

She was witnessing something completely and utterly impossible.

Supprin's heart (or whatever was the Installation equivalent) was pounding in her chest, compounded by her trembling body. The grating and creaking of her tightly-clenched gauntlets was audible even over her borderline hyperventilating. She didn't know whether to faint from shock, or scream in terror… or just sit there, dumbstruck with awe.

A small part of her was grateful that the other onlookers were just as fixated on the scene before them as she was—she'd probably be called out for making a scene otherwise.

Next to Supprin, Ooyodo was staring at the scene with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Raising a trembling hand, she pointed to Hoppou. "Did… d-did she just…"

Supprin was jerked back into reality with the secretary ship's words. She took a deep breath as she searched for her voice. "I… I think so."

"…how?"

Supprin shook her head. "I-I don't know. This… I've never heard of something like, like this being done by a Princess before. From ANY of the Abyssals I have had the pleasure—or displeasure—of providing for."

She wasn't lying. She was just a small cog in the Abyssal war machine before Wanko liberated her, but that didn't make her deaf or dumb. She had overhead plenty of chatter from the many fleets that had sacked her depots—and more than once, been forced to spill what she knew to a Princess that had beef with another fleet. As they spoke, she was going through every log, every audio transcript she had ever made, from her genesis to the current day. Not once had there ever been mention of the ability to manipulate an Abyssal on the metaphysical level—which she could only assume was happening now with this Re-class. Wanko had never demonstrated anything like it. Supprin herself doubted she could manage something like it, even if she knew how. There was no way Hoppou should have been able to accomplish this.

But then… Hoppou was not a common Princess. By all knowledge, she was one of the oldest known active Princesses in the world, dating all the way back to Blood Week itself. And she got that old by playing smart, and playing nice. She strolled up to Unalaska amidst the chaos consuming the rest of the world, claimed the island as hers with almost no bloodshed… and parked a fleet that would give even the US Navy a run for its money, daring anyone to try and take the Aleutians from her. And her fleet just kept growing. Yet at no point did she throw that weight around to get her way—she was happy with her little harbor.

Thinking about it… Hoppou was about as different as one could get while remaining an Abyssal. She was small. Kind. Non-combative. She never should have been able to survive among the cutthroats of the orthodox Abyssals long enough to become a Princess, let alone reach the position of immense power that she did. So how did she?

Unless…

No. No, it couldn't be.

"Maybe…" Supprin began, uncertain. "Maybe… it's her experience. Her fleet was huge, right?"

Ooyodo looked over to her. "Yes. By her own count, she had a little over four hundred ships before Unalaska was invaded."

"And she's been around since Blood Week?"

"As far as we can tell, yes. By the time Blood Week was over and everybody was assessing what damage they could, she'd already parked herself in Alaska. And she stayed there until the invasion in 2009, after which she was brought here, to Japan."

Supprin nodded slowly. "So… she's had a lot of time to work with, repair, maintain a lot of ships; she's able to modify them extensively, judging from the destroyer avatars; and she's even designed her own Abyssal constructions." Supprin shrugged. "Who's to say she didn't somehow… crack the secret to touching the soul of an Abyssal?"

"…I… I guess that makes sense," Ooyodo said hesitantly. "Hoppou and Wanko are some of the oldest Abyssals on record. And Hoppou is certainly… special, in other regards…"

"See what I mean? All that time she had to herself, secure in her territory—she had four years to research and experiment freely…" Supprin gestured to the scene in front of them. "And maybe this is just the end result of that."

"…Yeah…" Ooyodo looked back to Hoppou. "Maybe you're right…"

Supprin didn't know who she was trying harder to convince: Ooyodo, or herself. Because if she was wrong, and her suspicions were proven true…

She didn't dare think of what could happen, should word get out.

XXXXXXXXXX

She couldn't see, she couldn't hear, she couldn't speak. But she didn't care.

Because the world was full of light.

Regalia could feel her family all around her. The power radiating from their bodies was like rays of sunlight shining over her bare soul. But more than that, she could feel their hearts-- each one unique and instantly recognizable.

She could feel Ritou's calm and confidence, her approval of Regalia's bravery. Everyone deserved to feel comfortable in their own skin, and Regalia was long overdue her chance.

She could feel Sunny's light-hearted joy, her desire to help everyone feel happy like she did… and beneath it, her burning drive to defend the happiness of her loved ones by any means necessary.

She could feel her mother's familiar warmth, her happiness… her uncertainty, her fear. She just wanted her daughter to be happy, to live life to the fullest… but at what cost? How much was too much to risk?

All those and many more, she could feel… but there was one thing constant between them. They were all here for her; to comfort her when she was afraid, to protect her in her most vulnerable moment… to give her a chance to be everything she was meant to be, and more.

They were her family, and they loved her.

This knowledge filled Regalia with a warmth like no other. She wasn't alone in here…. she didn't need to be afraid, anymore… because her family was here with her. And when this was over… she would finally, truly be able to join her fleet. All would be right with the world.

Finally knowing peace, her family's love seeping into her soul, Regalia drifted into slumber.

And she began to dream.

XXXXXXXXXX

The crystallized soul of Regalia rested silently in Tanith's hands, her light soft and steady. "So… what happens now…?" Tanith asked her mother.

"Now…" Hoppou said quietly, "The real work begins."

 

[darthcourt10]

WickedestCard

So, this is a bit of a mood shift with this post but I finally managed to get Part 6 done and I feel it's quite fluffy and that some would enjoy it. Alright everyone, its time for:

THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF MINIGATO PART 6!

------

Inside the Nagato quarters, most of those that lived there were out and about thanks to the absurdly busy few weeks that they just had thanks to rest of Hoppou's fleet making themselves known at Hokkaido. That isn't to say that the ones still inside didn't have their own stress, after all when the alarm sounded and the base went ready for a battle, the Smols also sprang into action. MiniGato had gone to the harbor and summoned her Smol rigging, ready to stand as a last line if it ever came down to it and Hibitiki along with ShiNANO had gone to the armories to help load up torpedos and munitions for the other ships that were scrambling to sortie out.


Even Alli had gone out to help discreetly using her magic to make items lighter and trying to relieve the fatigue of the personal and fairies with her aroma and calming powers. She felt a small amount of pride as she was able to keep her calm and help out more than the last she was in a crisis where she had froze.


Even afterwards when the Abyssal attack was found out to not be much of an attack there wasn't much time to rest as word got out of the riot that was developing due to the Magical Diet's actions. Again the Smols helped where they could but when the Ono's came onto base as well as some other Yokai it was Alli that had done her best to help soothe the raising tensions and stress thanks to her nature related powers.


Now though, now they had some time to de-stress and MiniGato knew just how to accomplish said goal. It took her a few hours of rummaging and searching but finally she had found her goal. Nagato's DVD Box sets of Azumanga Daioh, Nichijou, Hamtaro and others were all collected and the others all went around to grab large amounts of snacks and goodies for the ensuing anime watching marathon. MiniGato provided the sweet breads and drinks, Hibitiki having brought different flavored bags of chips as well having pulled out small cups of ice cream from somewhere and ShiNANO had brought many different chocolate themed items. Alli for her part set up a fan with various herbs set up in front of it charmed to produce a cooling breeze and a relaxing scent. The nature fairy even charmed the ice cream cups to never melt.


After the set up was all done the four sat down with their table of treats and started their marathon. While the various Smols already had experiences with such activities it was all relatively new to Alli but she took the opportunity to snuggle up with MiniGato as they feasted on their goodies. About two hours in though a small crash was heard and MiniGato paused the DVD and Alli took to the air to find out what had happened. A quick sweep of the living room proved fruitless so she flew into into the kitchen. About a minute later if one tried hard they could have heard a tiny surprised gasp.


"Pip! Pip pip pip! Pip!" Came the excited chatter from the fairy. Quickly the Smols jumped off the couch and ran into the kitchen to see what had Alli all worked up.


As soon as they stepped inside they could see a glass jar laying on the floor with the lid popped off and crumbs everywhere. Looking inside the could see pale skin covered by a black poncho with a tail hanging out of the jar happily snacking on a cookie.


SmolGina had arrived and was quietly eating some chocolate chip cookies. When she looked out and saw she had company she jumped and tried to get out of the jar. However it was difficult due to how her tail was in the way. In the end it took MiniGato and ShiNANO tipping the jar over with Hibitiki and Alli working together to get her out. As she was now out of her glass containment the Smol Abyssal looked down shyly, afraid that she was now in trouble for being found in a place without permission. This however only lasted for a few seconds when Alli and MiniGato held a cookie and a pastry for her to eat.


"Gato gato gato! Gato~" the Smol battleship exclaimed, waving her hands towards the couch to show tiny abyssal she was invited to watch and relax with them. Hibitiki and ShiNANO both nodded, grabbing the new Smol's chubby hands and guiding her over to the living room. After the cookie was accepted Alli grabbed the jar and placed it back on the counter. And with that the now group of five went back to their marathon.


-----


"Pip….pip pip…" Alli told her group as they gathered their ingredients for the Fleet Week Curry contest. The five had decided before heading out to the beach for Harry's birthday to get some practice in when the fairy came to grim realization. She gave her team an unfair advantage and that wouldn't do. As it turned out her mere presence made the ingredients not only stay fresh for a extraordinarily long time but they were more vibrant and flavorful while also balancing together. Alli decided that this would be cheating even if she wasn't doing it on purpose so decided to back out and simply help her chosen successor.


"Gina? Gina Gina?" SmolGina pointed to herself in surprise. Alli had proposed that the new Smol should take her place in the contest. SmolGina had argued that she didn't know how to cook and that there wasn't enough time for her to learn properly. The other Smols however said it would be a team effort and Alli would be able to show her what to do for her part. At Alli's pleading look the mini Abyssal receded back into her poncho but agreed nonetheless. And thus SmolGina was to be put through her paces as Alli would train her, somehow the fairy gaining a very shonen like background with flares and explosions as she proclaimed that she'll do everything in her power to make SmolGina ready in time.


MiniGato then patted her on the shoulder and said that they should get started, causing Alli's sudden outburst to deflate.


-----


Somewhere out in a museum in the dead of night the soft pitter patter of tiny feet could be heard. Had there been anyone around and by chanced looked at displayed model they may have caught a glance of a small chibified figure walking around.


Alas the locale was closed and thus it went unnoticed for a while longer.
-------

Yes, the Smols did what they could during the panic from (in story time) a few days ago. Alli is trying to do her best to the bestest fairy friend to MiniGato and I wonder if anyone can guess the last bit.

(Proceeds to fall into work induced sleep coma leaving Gambay to take messages.)

 

[darthcourt10]

K9Thefirst1

Welp. At long last, after over two months after I promised, the collection is complete - The Applejack Re-Class. I tried to make sure that the timeline worked out, so that I don't have to force Harry to do summersaults to include her in the main storyline if he - or any one of you fine folks - so desire. Given that it's early august in 2013, and Rhodie isn't 'scheduled' to be revealed until around Harry Potter's Christmas Break, that should be fine.



USS Rhode Island

May, 2011, Off the coast of Delaware

Lieutenant Richard "Dick" Dowes was a Marine, and a Proud member of the United States Marine Corps. It was his job to defend the ship from borders, and in turn board the enemy, along with amphibious landings. Early in the morning, one of the destroyers reported in the smoldering hulk of one of those damned abominations prowling the waves. The fleet moved in to intercept. One of Essex's recon planes reported that the vessel appeared to be derelict with no power, but the flagship ordered caution nonetheless. When the fleet confirmed the initial assessment with the MK I Eyeball the Admiral ordered to attempt a capture and recovery. 'For analysis, intelligence and potential resources.'

Dick personally thought that a new reef on the ocean floor was the only good use for one of the damned demon ships, but he was just a Marine, not something one of the Brassholes considered worth consulting on these matters. So he and his unit – plus a half-dozen or so of the ship's engineers to see if anything was of value – along with units from other ships in the fleet, hopped into the whaleboats and rode over to the derelict, bouncing with each wave, and poor Private Pile voiding with every void they fell into.

Dick had figured it was some sort of Demon Trick. Lure in some of the Navy's finest with a tempting prize and spring a whole damn fleet on them when they were unwary. But nothing happened, even after the teams boarded the vessel. The teams of the ships sending Marines over met on the flight deck situated on the starboard side of the superstructure and the forward big guns – and wasn't it just like demons to do that. Everyone knows that the superstructure goes on the starboard side of the flight deck. Even the Japs knew that, even if they did screw it up a couple times. The team leaders met for a few minutes to plan their attack, with Dick in charge given that – it turned out – he had seniority.

The group would split up into five teams. Team One would stay on deck to secure the boats in the event this was a trap and they needed to 23 Skidoo. Team One would also consist primarily of their radio boys so that they could serve as their coms center to relay messages between the teams and their ships.

Team Two was to secure the superstructure and – as much as the words left a foul taste in his mouth – capture any Demons they found, especially any officers.

Teams Three and Four were to secure the bow and stern respectively, pacify any of the crew they came across and above all ensure the Big Guns couldn't be turned onto the fleet.

And – damn his sense of responsibility and bless his mother and the Preacher back home for instilling it in him – He would lead Team Five into the engineering spaces amidships. If this was a trap, then the cramped, tight quarters would make The Sovereign State of Engineering his ideal region to fortify, with plenty of demo charges to take as many invaders with him and his ship.

After a brief prayer service with the chaplains for their safety, the teams split up, with Dick's Team Five being the last to leave the sunny openness of the flight deck for the unknown of the interiors. If Dick was honest, the insides of one of these Demon ships was something of a disappointment. Sure there were some aesthetic details that reminded you this wasn't a ship by any God-Fearing race, but frankly the internals were rather… Mundane. Almost normal even. Apparently, whoever designed these things figured Non-Euclidean Geometries and unnatural layouts were not conductive to the everyday combat effectiveness of a warship. Below the flight deck, the hangar deck was completely empty, save for spare parts and partially dismantled air frames that had been in the middle of servicing when whatever happened… Happened.

But one thing they did note pretty quickly was the signs of fire damage. Not necessarily anything indicative of a blazing inferno (although they did find the occasional deckplate or bulkhead warped or hatchway that wouldn't latch), but there were signs that the paint had been burned off all the surfaces, and where ever one expected to find bunks, or desks, or anything flammable they were finding piles of ash. Then came the bodies. Their intel suggested the Demons were black-skinned beastly things, but the pitiful figures they were finding looked like some wizard had turned them into charcoal and bones. Dick and one of their medics was looking over one of the corpses when their team's radio crackled.

'Lieutenant, Team Two reports the Superstructure is wrecked, but secure. No prisoners though. Over.'

"Burned I take it? Over."

'No sir. No bodies. According to Hutch everything from the Weather Deck up is – pardon my French – "Fucked up and Ass Raped" – his words, not mine. From what he can tell, the ship caught a golden BB of a shell to the CIC and absolutely gutted it and everything up. The starboard side that we're on? Everything looks fine, but the port side is leaning over and mangled. Over.'

Now that he thought about it, Dick thought that the three funnels sticking out of the superstructure looked a little wonky.

"What are the other teams seeing? Over."

'Team Four is still conducting their survey, but Team Three says that the forward magazine and Avgas tanks were flooded, along with the shell spaces of turret two, and they said that there were expecting more of the same in turret one. No word yet though. Over.'

"Any bodies? Over."

'Yes Lieutenant, scores of them, if they aren't burned then they're drowned. Team Three Lead suspects a panicked flooding to a fire and no one thought to give the word to evac. Over.'

"Well, Team Five is almost at the entrance to Engineering if the ship's layout follows anything logical, and we've found plenty of evidence of fire and a lot of burned corpses. Pass those reports to Home Team One. Team Five should have something to report about the state of Engineering in twenty minutes. Out."

'Copy that sir, out.'

Dick jerked his head onward to the dark companionway, signaling the team to move forward. The engineers, through their use of wizardry and arcane lore, figured the likely pathways to their target location by looking at the steam pipes along the ceiling and the floor. And after a good hour finally found the hatchway separating the machinery spaces from the rest of the ship. Dick ordered a couple of his men to open the door, but they hadn't turned it more than a quarter turn when it jerked back into the locked position.

"Private Pile, set some charges on that door. And someone radio Team One that we found some survivors and are about to engage."

Private Pile did as told, setting the charges on the hinges and the locking mechanism. Then everyone backed up and took cover as Pile rigged the detonator. Once he was safely in cover, he twisted the detonator handle.

"MAIL MAN!"

The corridor echoed with the sound of the directed explosion and the ring of the metal door falling inward. After only a second's pause to recover the team rushed through the hatchway into the brightly lit engineering compartment. It was only because of their training that no one scratched their itchy trigger fingers at the sight of dozens of the demons. And their raised hands.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot! Don't shoot! We surrender! We haven't had food or water in six days, we couldn't fight if we wanted!"

Much as Dick would have loved to kill 'em all and let God sort them out, it just wasn't a Christian thing to do. Besides, the Brass wanted intel on how these ships worked, and first-hand knowledge from their own crew was the best source they could ask for.

"All right boys, stand down. Which one of you is in charge?"

There was a long pause, and by the looks on their faces it seemed the demons were surprised that they weren't already dead. Finally, one of them – a big burly sort with a bunch of patches on his sleeves – moved to the front of the group.

"That would be me. Chief Azog Wraithghoul. Engineering. You?"

"Lieutenant Richard Dowes, United States Marine Corps."

Judging by the soft 'oh shit' from somewhere in the back, Dick was pleased to hear the reputation of the Marines preceded them. Oo-rah.

"Mind telling us what happened here?"

The Chief Engineer took a breath. "Not sure. We were on patrol as normal with the fleet when we suddenly went to general quarters. Only word we got from the rumor mill was a rival fleet was making a surprise attack. Chaos ensued for a good hour when there was a bang that rocked the ship and cut us off from the bridge. A few minutes later the Christmas tree lights up with fire alerts from stem to stern so we had to trigger all the fire suppressant systems. Things started heating up down here for another hour before the last of the flames burned out. By any chance, did you find anyone else?"

Dick shook his head, to Azog's clear disappointment. "Sorry Chief, but unless the last of my teams finds anyone aft, you lot at the only ones left."

Azog nodded in disappointed acknowledgment and stuck out his hand.

"Pity. Captain Frostheim was a good man. Then I guess that means I'm the highest-ranking officer of this ship. Lieutenant, I, Chief Engineer Azog Wraithghoul, and my crew, do hereby present the Abyssal Re-Class Battlecarrier Resignation, of The Atlantic Grand Battlefleet. Late of Her Royal Highness the Atlantic Convoy Princess."

Dick put down his rifle, stepped up and took the giant hand and shook it.

"Lieutenant Richard Dowes, of the United States Ship Texas. The United States accepts your surrender."
------

It was a tense hour for Texas, Arkansas, Tennessee, North Carolina and the other girls of the fleet while their marine fairies secured the Re-Class. They had found her while on patrol just… Drifting with the tides. Judging by the major headwound and her general seakeeping characteristics, the Abyssal looked to all accounts dead in the water, but one could never be too careful. So it came with some relief when their teams reported in a whole bunch of dead Imps, followed soon after by excitement at the news of surrender.

"Admiral?" Texas drawled, though with the thickest of her accent held in check, "we got ourselves the Re-Class. She's seaworthy but her command spaces are destroyed so she's effectively braindead. We managed to find the engineering crews and are taking them prisoner. According to them there was a battle between two Abyssal fleets when the ship's command spaces were gutted by a lucky shell and caught fire, and they've been hold up for nearly a week. The rest of the crew appears to have all either died or abandoned ship. Orders?"

'Secure the ship and take her under tow. I'll send Vulcan over to examine her while en route to base. Capturing a capital ship could prove immensely valuable to us and our allies in the war. Good work girls.'

"Roger."

The rest of the day consisted of taking the Abyssal battleship under tow and making for Newport. Around five or so Vulcan linked up with the fleet. The closest analogue shipgirls had to a field medic was lacking what most considered proper bedside manner, if the cigar she was always smoking was any indication. And anyone who complained about the health risks to her face got an impertinent puff of smoke blown in their face. With barely a word the repair ship pulled up to the Re-Class, dropped off a few engineers of her own, and began examining her. She shown a light into her eyes, and when she got no response she looked at the gaping hole in the back of her skull.

"Welp, there's yer problem right there," she muttered sarcastically, "other than the brainstem, the brain cavity is completely gutted and charred. Hell I can see the optic nerves and down her nostrils."

Arkansas pulled up beside Vulcan and deliberately avoided looking at the patient's injury.

"So… What do you think the prognosis should be? Could she be repaired if the Navy wanted?"

"Hell, don't see why not. From what my boys say, the majority of the damage – beyond all reason – is stuff that can be replaced easy in a couple months. Some deck plates and bulkheads are warped, but the ribs of the frame are just fine, and what damage there is to those won't take much effort but some grinding, some replacing, or some straightening. Ain't like it's the keel, and the strength deck, goin' by the Engineer's blueprints, hasn't been compromised either. The CIC and superstructure's buggered up somethin' fierce, but WeeVee got worse than that at Pearl and we got her up and runnin' just fine. The guns and more importantly the propulsion plant are still showroom fresh as far as I can tell. Fire director's a total loss, but we've got dozens of them around. The question is will the Navy want to, and will Congress foot the bill?"
------

Navy Yard, District of Columbia, February 2012

In the shipgirl repair docks of the Navy Yard in DC, there was a woman in attire that would have been more typical of the time of the Civil War. Short and stout, she nonetheless was a beauty in her own way, and exuded an air of authority found rarely outside of those in the prime of motherhood. Her name was South Carolina – BB-26 and America's first Dreadnought type battleship (though she claimed up and down that she'd be the first in the world had 'them lazy good fer nothin's' hadn't lollygagged her construction) – and she stood at the edge of the bath, watching the naked Abyssal sleep as the Navy's Finest took their sweet time on her repairs. It turned out that the Navy was interested in seeing what became of repairing the Abyssal and to see if they could use her in combat, and Congress was, shockingly, accommodating enough to adjust the budget. Though not so much that the Re-Class was put at the top of the priority list. She got crews, material, and manhours when there was opportunity and surplus. Hence why things slowed to a crawl once the Navy's engineers and naval architects got all the information they could out of her regarding the layout and construction of the Re-Class battleships. Information that, it was hoped, would be very useful in drafting doctrines and tactics to counter and sink them with a minimized risk.

South Carolina, Mother of the American Dreadnoughts, didn't have much in terms of duties. Much like her first life, she stayed close to shore. To slow to be of use in the battle line or even in convoy, and with gun calibers to small to be of use against the enemy, the battleship was primarily tasked with playing mother hen to the navy's shipgirls, or joining her sister Michigan and her oldest daughters – fellow possessors of twelve-inchers – in training crews for their younger Standard Types and Post-Holiday sisters. Not a meaningless series of tasks, but not exactly glamorous either. Still, she took the time every day or so to swing by the dock assigned to the Abyssal Re-Class Resignation. South Carolina eased into a nearby seat for visitors, thinking about her. When she came in under tow, she was little more than a hulk, on top of the other unsightly signs of her sea demon nature. But as the months passed and work progressed in starts and stops she'd… Changed.

Her pale skin slowly but surely had taken on a healthier tone, until now she looked like most young women her age who needed a little sun. She even started to show signs of freckles across her nose. And her ivory hair had by now turned the color of cut straw. And in her mouth, the serrated shark teeth had fallen out and were replaced with regular human incisors, canines, and molars. And of the gaping wound in the back of her head when she was taken, there was only a bald spot as big as your palm. The changes extended down to her tail too, though not as drastically. Starting just a few inches away from when it branched off from the spine, the skin of the tail was hidden by a peach fuzz, which as one progressed down the tail turned into… Well, a dull white coat of dog fur. But all the other elements marking it as part of an Abyssal's body remained. The eggheads had mulled over the changes taking shape the further along the repairs progressed, trying to figure out what it meant. Though South Carolina, in that way all mothers do, knew exactly what it was.

That Abyssal was no Abyssal. Not anymore. And just a half hour ago, the battlecarrier moved on her own. It wasn't much, just a twitch of the head, with the tail lifting its head an inch or so for long enough to look around, but it was enough. Enough to signal that the repairs had neared completion, and the question of what to do with her needed an answer.

But for South Carolina, the answer was obvious. At first she almost started at herself when she realized what she had decided on. But… What else could she do? The girl in the dock was a child reborn. She had no kin, no people. None that would want her at least, especially now that she'd been touched by Humans. How could she turn away a child in need?

"Ah hell," she muttered ruefully, "what's one more young 'n'? So then child… What do I call ya?"

The battleship sat there, thinking about what to call this poor girl that she had whole-heartedly taken into her family. Sure she was a carrier, but she was a battleship too by thunder, so it had to be one of the States in the Union. But which one… Then there was the fact that, according to the latest intel from abroad, the Abyssals seemed to prefer naming schemes that included their class names at the start. There was only one state in the Union that started with R, and wouldn't you know, none of the Post-Dreadnought type battleships were named after it.

"So then sugah," South Carolina said softly, running a hand through the battlecarrier's hair, "Rhode Island… How's that sound fer a name?"

Rhode Island didn't respond, other than by a blink.
------

Navy Yard, District of Columbia, April 2013

"So what's the hubbub Ma?" Alabama asked as she, Tennessee, Texas, Mississippi, and North Carolina joined South Carolina in the dock. It was rare that so many of the capitol ships were in one place, but months of requesting from the Mother of American Dreadnoughts made it happen.

"Y'all," the shorter, older woman, almost lost among the taller Amazonians, said with authority, "I'd like ta introduce ya ta yer newest little sister in our family. RHODIE! Gitcher tail in 'ere! We's got comp'ny!"

The other battleships looked at each other.

"Rhodie?"

"It's short fer Rhode Island Tex."

Tennessee and Mississippi looked at each other.

"Rhode Island?" the latter echoed, clearly lost, "Ma, there's never been a 'Rhode Island' battleship. At least, unless there was one of the Pre-Dreadnoughts called that."

Tennessee hummed in thought and crossed her arms under her bust.

"Maybe… it's another one of those paper ships that have been spontaneously being summoned recently?"

"Nah," Alabama said, "none of the Montana's go by that name, and I'm pretty sure all of them are on deployment anyway."

South Carolina rolled her eyes.

"Oh hush, y'all'll meet 'er soon enough. An' she's family now, so I don' wanna here no fussin' er belly achin' er any of y'all er nobody else givin' her grief. Y'hear?"

"Yes Mama," they chorused. South Carolina nodded in approval just as the door on the other end of the room opened… And a Re-Class battleship waltzed right in!

The other battleship's tensed at the intrusion, their crews rushing for action stations… But then the other details started to register: The color to her skin and hair, the iconic hoodie being replaced by a halter top and modified blue jeans, actual honest-to-goodness horseshoes on her hooves… And the tail and second head sporting a glossy white coat of dog fur. While Alabama and Mississippi were gawking at the sight, the coin dropped for the other battleships: This was that Re-Class they took in the previous year.

While they processed that fact, the Re-Class before them smiled and gave a proper salute.

"Howdy y'all! I'm BBV-1, the USS Rhode Island, America's first, last, and only Battlecarrier, an' I'm a-ready ta whoop some ass!"

Of the battleships present, only South Carolina and Texas weren't gawking as if she has two heads… Two human heads. As the moments stretched into seconds, Rhode Island – still in her salute and sporting a wide smile – slowly began to wilt, the smile slowly weakening. Then the head at her tail, which thus far had been content to hover around the captured battlecarrier's ankles, shot up and got nose-to-nose with Texas, sniffing and chuffing at the battleship. Mississippi, Tennessee, NoCar and Alabama jerked back a step, and it was only the glare their mother was sending their way that stopped them from summoning their rigging, close quarters be damned.

Texas, meanwhile, simply watched the head wide-eyed as it sniffed her.

"Rex!" Rhode Island hissed, teeth grit and her cheeks blushing, "Stop that boy! Stop!"

The head had turned to Rhodie, then to SoCar, then back to Rhodie before turning back to Texas. There was a pregnant pause in the room as everyone watched, tension mounting as they waited to see what happened, while the tail just stared at the battleship, nose inches away from nose, looking like some sort of horror movie monster that had cornered its prey…

Then it opened its mouth in rapid pants, its tongue lolling out like a long, thick noodle, its hot breath hitting Texas' nose with the thick scent of Dog Breath. Which was quickly followed by the head licking her face not unlike livestock on a salt lick. As Texas' sputtered and laughed before falling back on her aft, the other battleships slowly calmed down, while SoCar chuckled to herself and Rhode Island scratched the back of her head bashfully.

"Mighty sorry 'bout that y'all. Rex here jus' ain't all that used ta meetin' folks is all."

"It's a'ight," Texas laughed out, having managed to calm down the… Dog Tail Head, and had taken to scratching him in the area approximately behind where his ears should have been, and as she spoke, no one seemed to notice the interest he had in the opening of her blouse, and the cleavage it exposed. "I reckon that yer one uh them paper ships showin' up now-adays?" she said, turning her eyes to SoCar without moving her head, just enough to see the Mother of American Dreadnoughts give a slight nod. If she noticed, Rhodie didn't comment.

"A-yep!" she declared, as proud as a peacock, "So's I been told. Somethin' from the 1930s ah think, not done 'cause of the Depression 'n' them damn-fool treaties ah reckon. Then they took another look durin' the war when Enterprise was the only carrier in the Pacific. But then the war ended b'fore they made any orders."

The younger battleships looked between the three in confusion, all of them fully aware that none of what they just heard was even remotely true. But a tiny shake of the head from their mother was enough to get them to keep their piece. At least until the… Sister, was back in her quarters. As Rhode Island and Texas talked, Tennessee kneeled down and watched the tail head as he cocked in curiosity this way and that, eyes never leaving Texas' bust. Whose owner apparently never noticed the attention.

"Welp, we need air cover, and we need artillery, and damned if I don't feel excitement as us getting' both in one package. Ah look forward t' seein' yyyee-EEEE!!!!!"

Without warning, the tail shot forward and burrowed into Texas' blouse and began to wriggle about to go further in, all the while sniffing and snorting at the fascinating new smells he had discovered. Texas meanwhile did her best not to squeal girlishly. They were sensitive after all. Fortunately, Rhodie and Tennessee were quick to pull Rex out from the battleship's sacred halls, the former beat read from her collar to her hairline, the latter holding in laughter along with the other younger battlewagons… And SoCar smacked a palm to her face.

"I am so sorry Miss Texas!" Rhodie said, clearly mortified for the actions of her tail, "Rex don't know no better, but I ain't never seen 'im do that t' nobody!"

Texas had gotten up to her feet, adjusting herself to make sure everything was where it belonged before turning to the tail. She was smiling, but it was more to disguise a grimace as she held a fist up to the tail.

"Mutt, yer mighty lucky. Except for dumb animals, cute little toddlers who don't know any better, and really cute guys with a fuckton of mo- Excuse me Ma – a whole heap-load of money, anyone who messes with the Twins gets clobbered!"

"Oh calm down Tex!" Tennessee chastised with a laugh, petting Rex as if he were any normal pooch, "Relax, after all, he's just a widdwe bay-bee! Ishent that wight Wexie? You're jus' a pweshous bay-bay!"

As Tennessee descended into incomprehensible baby-talk and rubbing Rex's head, she didn't know that the tail was starting to look at the battleship's bust with equal curiosity. But Texas did, and she was not inclined to warn her, instead opting to cross her arms over her breasts and smirk smugly. All too soon, Tenn's string of baby babble turned into a high-pitched squeal as the head proceeded to burrow into her own top with enthusiasm. Much to Texas' recklessly pleasurable indulgence of schadenfreude. While Texas and the other battleships backed up and/or laughed, Rhode Island pulled on her tail with all her might, chastising the appendage with genuine venom. Taking in the scene, SoCar once more smacked a palm to her forehead.

"Sweet Lord have Mercy," she muttered as she reached into her hold, then pulled out a large spray bottle, "Rex! Bad! Bad dog! Heel!"

Exposed to the Most Dreaded Water Spitter, Rex yelped and pulled out of his burrow, but not before having already done the damage, leaving Tennessee with all the buttons of her top undone, fully exposing her primary batteries. There was a pause where Tennessee's turned red from her hairline to her Appalachian Peaks before screaming and rushing to cover herself and restore her modesty, hunting down any buttons that had popped off in the struggle while her Ship's Carpenter brought out the tools to enact the requisite repairs, all the while repressing teary sobs.

"Oh quit yer squawkin' Tenny," SoCar chastised, wagging a finger at her daughter "I dun told y'all a hundred times: If a woman ain't gonna wear a bra when she clearly has a need fer one, she ain't got no right to holler foul if somethin' happens where she's givin' a free show when it coulda jus' been a peak.

"Sweet Mercy, how Dreadnought managed t' make all her young 'n's such ladies I'll never know." She finished, unaware of the debaucheries some of those 'ladies' got into when exposed to sufficient alcohol.

The scene in the room would have been very odd to an outside observer: A Re-Class Abyssal with a pallet and wardrobe change, holding her crimson face as if she wanted to just die. A battleship curled up as she fixed her top while another laughed at her, two others watching the proceedings with wide eyes.

And Rex was just happily panting, because everyone was paying attention to him.

"Well, something we learned today." North Carolina said, clearly trying to lighten the mood, "If your boobs are a C or bigger, don't lean in front of Rex."

The ice broke for the shipgirls, but for Rhode Island that was clearly not the right thing to say, given by how she groaned into her hands. Texas finally managed to control her laughter and took pity on the battlecarrier and walked up to her.

"…Oh don't you worry none kiddo," Texas said with a smile, happily taking off her Stetson and reaching up to place it on Rhodie's head, "there ain't no need fer ornamentation an' dignity among family. That's what makes family so important – ya get t' see the embarrassing bit uh folks, an' y'all don' need t' sweat the foul ups y'make."

Tex turned to the other members of her sisterhood. And though the younger dreadnoughts were visibly unsure, they were also clearly willing to follow Ma's lead.

Ma said they had a new member of the family. And so a new member of the family they had.
------

Somewhere in Appalachia, USA, August, 2013

Through the valleys of the Appalachian Mountains, streams and rivers babbled along as they had for thousands of years, and would continue to do thousands of years hence. For centuries, the rustics lived their lives largely unchanged. To be sure electricity, motor cars and running water made their way through, but always slowly, taking its time. There amongst the trees and the waters, children played, farmers tended their crops, hunters collected their prey. And for miles and miles and miles around, not a soul disturbed the sacred peace of the mountains. Save for the simple joy of a girl running along the river banks, her barking dog by her side.

"C'mon Rex! Hurry!"

Which made it the perfect hiding place for the Navy's little project. For months, Rhode Island sailed up and down the rivers, streams and creeks of the mountains, practicing the launching and recovery of her air groups, and getting her crews familiar with her machinery, and figuring out how a battle carrier fit into the United States Navy's fleet doctrine.

Along a bluff, South Carolina watched as Rhode Island and her tail Rex went through their paces, taking in the smells of the smoke that had been cooking the meats since early the previous evening. There was a melancholy smile on her face. Sure, Rhode Island's existence was a top secret, known only to a select few, but she deserved to be out on the open sea. And there was also the fact that she didn't know the truth. As far as Rhodie was concerned, she was a Papership that never got beyond the Navy placing an order before Japan's surrender. It was a good enough lie. A little incredulous given how the battleship had moved out of the Navy's interest by '45, but most folk wouldn't question it to closely. After all, just because the Navy placed an order didn't mean there would be surviving records of which shipyard would build her.

But it was still a lie. And South Carolina taught her girls better than that, Rhodie included.

"Hey Ma!" called out Mississippi, "Could'ja help me wit' the place settin'?"

South Carolina shook herself out of her stupor. She needed to tell Rhodie sooner rather than later, but at the same time, the battlecarrier needed to develop herself too, to make up who she was. But the grief that was that conversation – that there was never a Battle carrier of the US Navy, let alone one named Rhode Island, and that Rhodie was born one of the very same sea demons she was expected to fight, and that Mama had been lying to her – could still wait, just a bit more. In the meantime, there was Barbecue to be had.

The group was smaller this time. Only Mississippi and Alabama were able to attend this nearly monthly barbeque. Which was both a disappointment and a relief for South Carolina: The former because it was so rare for all her babies to be with her; in fact she had yet to meet all of her Montana girls! Monty and Louie had both never left Japan where they were 'birthed.' But for the latter? Well, at the least it meant that they could go through a meal without her having to referee the inevitable argument of whose namesake State's style of smoked meat was superior, and which style Rhodie should take as gospel. Though granted, Rhodie got a belly-laugh out of SoCar at how she killed the debate the last time.

"I dunno y'all, but I think Texas' is the best. All 'em sauces is all well an' good, but if ya make 'em a requirement, it jus' makes me think y'all done somethin' unsouthern t' the meat."

Oh the shit-eating grin on Texas' face. And the glares of Divine Wrath the others sent her way…

Though Rex didn't seem to care either way. But then, he was a dog… Tail… Thing. If it was one things Dogs were best at, it was universal and unconditional love.

"Where's the Delawares Ma?" Alabama asked, placing a jar of her Mayo and Vinegar sauce on the picnic table.

South Carolina sighed at the question, remembering her conversation with her oldest twins, Delaware and North Dakota, "They ain't comin' sugah." She groused, "They went off t' The City of Sin - despite all th' time I told y'all not to, an' so they's up t' Lord knows what sorts of debaucheries, but they send their love."

The two battleships looked at each other over that, but didn't say anything else and shrugged before going back to their preparations.

Any further conversation was cut off by the sound of a dog barking and a young woman laughing. And over the ridge downstream, where a path had been cut down to the river below, Rhode Island and Rex came running, the last of her Devastators coming in for a landing.

"Rhodie!" South Carolina called, "Y'all finish yer exercises?"

"Yes Mama!"

"Y'all wash yer hands?"

As if her engineers put her turbo-electric motors in full astern, Rhode Island dug her hooves into the earth and left foot-deep gouges ten yards long before coming to a stop, turning around, and making for their canteens for just that purpose.

SoCar nodded even as Alabama and Mississippi giggled to themselves, she raised that girl right.


Somewhere around Lake Michigan, November 8th, 2013

The Great Lakes were the next best thing to the actual ocean when it came to open water training. It was where thousands of pilots – including a future President of the United States – were trained on how to deal with landing on ships out at sea. And unlike the coasts in this day and age, the goings on of those lakes could be secret. Sure there was some notion that the Navy was doing something, but with the major threats coming from the West, East, or Southern coasts, few paid them much mind. They were doing something that played a role in ending the War and keeping the people safe. That was enough.

And thus the SecNav decided that, once the pilots and CIC crews were confident in their abilities – and after all that training in Carrier Ops in the friggin' canyons of Appalachia rather than the open sea, they'd better have – it was time to test how a battlecarrier played both roles at once. Hence her exercises night and day around the Great Lakes. After that, the plan was to reveal her to the rest of the Navy, and the world at large, sometime around the end of the month, or the start of the New Year, where she would begin training with other shipgirls. And that scared South Carolina more than anything else.

Not out of concern that Rhodie couldn't do it. Far from it, SoCar knew it as a fact. The only other shipgirl the old Dreadnought could see as being able to pull off being both Carrier and Battleship better than her Rhodie was Enterprise, Langley's girl (God rest her soul).

No. The real issue was… Telling Rhodie the truth. Of her real origins.

It was a long time in coming. It was likely that the time to tell her had already come and gone but the battleship missed it. But she made a promise to herself months ago: Tell the girl before someone without a heart does. Which was why South Carolina stood at the door for Rhode Island's room in the house the Navy bought, a thick folder in her hand. The battleship paused more than once in knocking, but knock she did at long last. For a long while there was no sound from inside the room, and so South Carolina knocked a second time, with more force and more confidence. There was again a silence beyond the door. And so for a third time, worried now, South Carolina knocked on the door.

"Rhodie?" she said through the door, "It's Ma. I… I got somethin' mighty important t' talk t' y'all about."

There was still silence from inside the room, and that worried the Mother of American Dreadnoughts fiercely. No one else in their top secret base had seen Rhode Island, and so there shouldn't have been anywhere else for her to be. But just as she was about to force her way in and damn the violation of privacy…

"Come… Come in…"

The battlecarrier's voice – finally – responded. With a silent sigh of relief and mental prayer of thanks, South Carolina opened the door and entered. It wasn't exactly the largest of bedrooms, the house was an old Turn of the Century fixer-upper the Navy bought up for cheap, which fresh recruits for Army Corps of Engineers used to cut their teeth on to avoid paying contractors, but neither was the room a glorified broom closet. On one side was a book case with textbooks of naval doctrine and horse husbandry and Regency Romance novels, which beside it was a small desk used for Rhodie's study's and a laptop that South Carolina didn't recognized. And on the other side was a closet and dresser full of rarely used uniforms and civies, and a twin-sized bed. And on that bed sat a dejected Rhode Island, with an unusually calm Rex nestled up against his other half's stomach in a manner any dog owner would call 'comforting.' The Stetson Texas had gifted her was perched on the backrest of the chair at the desk, leaving her bald spot – the only real sign of her origins left besides Rex – fully exposed.

"Rhodie what's wrong?" SoCar asked, putting the folder on the floor, her reason for coming put in the back of her mind. A charitable person would claim it as being out of maternal concern for an obviously hurting child. A heartless cynic would call it her putting off the inevitable. Regardless, the matronly battleship sat down beside the girl.

"M… Ma… I ain't a shipgirl, am I…"

SoCar felt her boilers sputter for just a moment. A dozen worst case scenarios ran through her mind regarding of who would have told her, why, and how cruelly they worded it, and then she shoved that train to the side and focused on how she was going to respond to the girl's question. There wasn't any point in denying it; Hell, that was what South Carolina was there! But the way it was worded irked the battleship something fierce. After what felt like hours, South Carolina sighed and brushed a lock of light blonde hair behind the battlecarrier's ear. The fact that she didn't slap the hand away she took as a good sign.

"What brought this on young'un?" she said. She needed to know how she found out, to better figure out how to handle this conversation.

Rhodie's eyes flicked from the spot in the floor she was staring at and to South Carolina and back a few times, then got to her feet… Her hooves… and walked over to the desk. SoCar followed and saw that the desk top was strewn with intel dossier's of various known Abyssal types and classes. Each of them had a list of specifications, gun calibers, seakeeping characteristics, and dates of first known deployments and notworthy incidents. Each one had at least one photograph or rendering of the sea demon… Except for one very conspicuous type of battlecarrier.

"Th' Re-Class. First seen durin' Blood Week, armed with twelve 16-inch guns in four turrets, with an airwing comparable t' the Yorktown-class. In every metric considered the most formidable capitol ship in th' Abyssal Fleet. An' they don't give me no pictures t' look at? So I went 'n looked 'em up online with Dennis' early Christmas present."

"Huh," South Carolina noted absently, "so that's where that laptop came from – that boy she's sweet on. Looks like I'ma gonna need t' give that boy a talkin' to 'bout his intentions fer muh girl."

While South Carolina wrote a mental note to get her shotgun maintenance kit ready, Rhode Island had pulled up the Wikipedia article on the Re-Class. And – noteworthy differences aside – there was no possible way on God's Earth that anyone but a fool could have not seen the obvious resemblance between the girl in the room, and the demon on the screen.

Rhodie said no more. There was no need. So SoCar, with clear sadness on her face, sighed, and moved to pick up the folder she had come in with.

"I reckon you was smart enough t' figure it out on yer own. That's… Unfortunate."

"Unfortunate that I know th' truth?!"

"No!" SoCar said, clear guilt at her poor word choice, "Just… Unfortunate that I couldn't tell you myself."

The converted Re-Class opened her mouth – likely to make a sarcastic remark about 'when' that would have been – but held her peace when South Carolina dropped the folder on the table and opened it up, revealing sheets of paper work – After Action Reports, engineering surveys, medical diagrams, and plenty of photographs of the events of May 2011 off the Delaware Coast. Rhodie Island looked at the last items in particular, eyes wide and mouth open. Rex whined as the Re-Class felt her legs slowly give out and she sank to the floor, with South Carolina sitting down right next to her, a comporting arm around her shoulders.

"Is… Is this… Me…?"

"It was yer body," SoCar answered, "but it wasn't you."

"Wh-what difference is that?"

The battleship picked out one picture in particular, showing the back of Resignation's skull, the gaping maw of a wound, and the exposed interior of the skull. Rhodie Island winced at the sight, and absent-mindedly rubbed at her bald spot.

"Because sugah, the body Tex an' them towed in was dead. Nothin' left worth talking 'bout of th' demon that fought an' killed an' murdered innocent life. And as we fixed that hulk…"

She pulled out another one, a long mosaic showing the face and head of Resignation over the course of the repairs, and the slow but striking changes made as Resignation became Rhode Island.

"An' as we fixed that hulk, somebody new came int' being. It was you young'n. The girl I taught t' read an' write. Th' girl I helped figure out how to walk. How t' work on a set of britches so's they'd fit 'round her tail. The girl that loves her Barbeque with just the smoke an' no sauce. Th' girl who loves horses, ev'n if she ain't never met one yet, an' is sweet on a young man from Maine of all places. The girl that became Rhode Island, who's as US Navy as anybody else in the fleet, an' I'll fight any scoundrel who tries an' tell me I'm wrong."

Tears fell down Rhode Island's cheeks as she listened to her mother, who as she spoke pulled out other photographs, ones the battlecarrier remembered being taken, by Navy men at the Navy Yard, at their barbeque picnics, and more recently of her, and Mama, and their Navy entourage on the shores of Lake Michigan. And the differences between the hulk of Resignation, and the Re-Class Sea Demons, and Rhode Island – not just in the tone of skin or color of hair, but in the nature of their smiles, the lights of the soul in their eyes, and a host of a dozen other things – truly left no sign that Mama SoCar was wrong. And so, she cried, like anyone else in her situation. She cried, and embraced her dog-tail, and when Mama hugged her she latched on like a drowning man would a rope. In time she calmed down, but didn't let go.

"So… What am I then? Abyssal? Shipgirl? What?"

South Carolina released a small breath and ran her fingers through her girl's hair.

"I reckon a lot of folk'll tell me I'm wrong, eagerly and proudly. But way I see it, you sure ain't no Abyssal. You jus' ain't got the meanness fer it. So I says yer a shipgirl, through an' through. An' I'll fistfight the SecNav himself if he makes an ass of himself an' tells me I'm wrong."

Rhodie snorted a laugh, smiling for the first time that day.

"An' ya would too."

The two smiled and they turned to each other.

"C'mon, give yer Mama some sugah, sugah."

South Carolina kissed her adoptive daughter on the cheek, and the two stayed like in silence for some time, before Rhodie spoke again.

"So… What'll happen t' me? Wouldn't… Wouldn't I be fightin' my kin?"

South Carolina shook her head.

"From the sound of it, Resignation's kin are all either dead, or ain't never gave enough of a damn 'bout her t' look after her well bein'. So you don' need t' worry none fer that… But… If y'all… If y'all don't wanna fight… Well… I'll be mighty sad, and no doubt th' Navy won't be all that happy, 'cause of all the good y'all could do out there… But if yer dead set against it, nobody's gonna force ya. Hell, nobody actually can I would reckon. You'd still be welcome at my dinner table Rhodie, but it'll be a mighty fine opportunity t' give up."

Rhodie looked at SoCar incredulously.

"Ma, I didn't say I ain't fightin', I'm goin', and ain't nobody's gonna stop me!"

"Well… Good!" She said, smiling uncertainly as they stood up, "I was jus' makin' sure y'all was sure is all. Now, how's about you an' me get ourselves some fresh fish fer our supper?"

"Sounds good Ma."

The battleship smiled at the title, feeling as if it was truly genuine. And so the short and stout American Dreadnought, and her tall, adoptive daughter, went down the stairs, out the door, and out onto the lake with their lines for a day of freshwater hunting...

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Face flushed as she panted, Jane laid back and stared upwards as her chest heaved up and down. A light laugh made her glare as she clenched her hand around the cylinder in her hand. "What's... so funny..."

Moments later, an amused face hovered above her own as the own chuckled again. "Don't tell me, Miss Jane, that is all you have? The great Jane Richardson, already tired out after just five times in the last half hour? Don't ever say that it is so."

Gritting her teeth, Jane snarled despite the aches and tiredness in her body. Sure, it was of a good sort, but it was the fact of the matter. "Of course not! I... can keep going!"

Lips curling, the shipgirl hummed as she raised one eyebrow. "Can you, Miss Richardson?" At her glare, she lightly chuckled and leaned down. "Well, then, let us see for ourselves then..." Grabbing Jane's hand, she hauled the girl to unsteady feet before moving back and getting into a stance with her practice saber in one hand. "Very good, you'll need that steel if you're going to become an Admiral in the United States Navy, child."

Eyes narrowing, Jane went into a stance herself. "No ifs about it! I will be an Admiral, just you watch, Miss Indy!"

USS Independence, the first Ship of the Line to be commissioned by the United States Navy, simply nodded. "Excellent. Now... en guard!"

It was that scene that Jintsuu walked into, watching as Jane traded blows with the practice sabers with the sailshipgirl. Arms crossed, the Light Cruiser simply leaned back against the wall and watched as the two sparred. Within the Richardson household, as the weeks inched closer to the due date of the twins, people had become more and more stressed in some ways and worried in others. Each of them dealt with the stress in different ways. John switched between burying himself in work to hovering around an exasperated Mutsu, with said Battleship making models or taking up knitting and sewing of all things to busy herself.

Well, besides that one time she hung a doctor on a clothes hook because he was being annoying with not understanding that he was being too invasive... John had a field day and been in a better mood for at least a week afterwards.

Pennsylvania, to everyone's surprise, was the one who was teaching Mutsu how to sew and knit. Granted, some of their "Creations" were odd, but often gave everyone a laugh at least. Meanwhile, Arizona had begun making ship plushies, some of which Jintsuu suspected were going to be in a certain crib when the time came. Often, Shimakaze was there with her sisters trying to help, though more often then not they would get bored and run off for an hour or two. Both Submarines had decided to take on the legendary task of teaching Hiei to bake, with said Battleship using it as a stress relief.

The less said about the cake somehow coming to life due to chocolate ordered from Honeydukes the better. Once it had become self-aware, it lead a rebellion in the kitchen. Granted, after it was defeated by the household, everyone agreed it was delicious.

Hiei was still forbidden from ever trying that again.

Part of Jintsuu still raised an internal eyebrow though at one of the more recent happenings. Due to not just Albie and Archie, but also Shimakaze and her sisters as well as the ever approaching arrivals of the Twins, some things had changed. For the Light Cruiser, she found herself sharing the same room as the Shimakazes, whenever they were not sleeping cuddled with Arizona. Meanwhile, Pennsylvania still slept in her own room, next to Jane's with the teenaged girl sharing it with Albie and Archie.

But it was Hiei's situation that really raised eyebrows from most of the household when it happened.

Mainly, said Fast Battleship had moved into Mutsu's and John's room and started to sleep in the same bed. It had started when John had worked himself to exhaustion one night in trying to stave off keeping himself awake from worry. Hiei, also exhausted from a patrol had slumped there and fallen asleep on the opposite side to Mutsu after helping John there. The next day had been amusing to all of them when John had woken up with a drooling Hiei cuddled into him with his wife watching with a grin and giggling madly.

After it happened a few more times, and the reshuffling of the rooms, Hiei had simply moved into said room. Much to Richardson's confusion, Mutsu had little issue with it, though he did relax some as Hiei told him she would keep an eye on Mutsu when he was at the office. While everyone expected some sort of explosion from Arizona, the Battleship had simply rolled her eyes and shrugged. Meanwhile, Jane had just grinned madly and muttered to herself about something before giving thoughtful looks to both Jintsuu and Arizona.

Neither of whom understood the shiver that went down their keels.

Speaking of Jane, Jintsuu was brought out of her musing due to a grunt and the sound of a body hitting the mat. Only shaking her head, the Japanese shipgirl could only smile at the sight of the teenaged girl on her back. Jane's practice saber was several feet away where it had been knocked from her hands. Meanwhile, said thirteen year old girl just laid there trying to catch her breath as sweat drenched her clothes.

It had been surprising to them all how one day, more then two months ago, Jane had asked if she could be taught how to fight. There was a part of Jintsuu that thought at least some of her reasoning was due to what had happened to Harry. After all, it did make some sense for that, though it could also be in part due to the plan to assassinate her and her father as well by some anti-shipgirl people. Though Jane, due to Harry, found out that they were actually anti-magic.

That... had been a shock to the household, and Jintsuu suspected that was part of why Hiei was sticking so close to John and Mutsu, not that the others were any better.

However, it did give Jane an outlet for her own stress from things. It was also an release valve for the normal troubles of teenagehood... Or that was what Naka had commented when Jintsuu had asked her for some insight. Something that confused the summoned shipgirl to no end. Being a teen couldn't be that bad, right?

Shaking her head, Jintsuu watched as Jane got back to her feet and picked up her saber before getting into a stance. While her and Arizona had taught her hand to hand fighting, along with some bits and pieces from Shimakaze as well as Hiei and the Submarines, one issue did pop up. Jane, it seemed, had wanted to learn how to fight with a sword.

While Jintsuu did know how to use a sword, she did keep one under her bed just in case and especially after the recent scare, Arizona had brought up a good point. Most likely, Jane would be using something like an Officer's sword once she entered the USN. And with how magic was, there were some benefits as some things were unaffected by bullets. Jintsuu still felt shivers down her back as she remembered that thing that had tried to trick Jane into going with it... and that Regina had taken care of personally. Shaking off that memory, the Japanese shipgirl watched as Indy corrected Jane's stance before going into one of her own.

Of course, that was when Arizona had stated that she would take care of getting her a teacher. Not even a week later, the wooden Sailshipgirl was at their door to interview her prospective student. An hour later, she had accepted Jane as her student in the way of the sword and given them a list of materials. Though Jintsuu was, personally, thankful that they could get a hard rubber, with a layer of foam covering it, practice sword. No one wanted to think what would happen if Jane had to use a metal one.

Just leaning back, while those thoughts went through her mind, Jintsuu smiled as Indy continued her instruction. "Watch where you're placing those feet, Miss Richardson! Next time, block a bit higher and try to deflect some of the blow! Ducking, very good!"

Less then two minutes later found Jane once more on the mats though and she finally noticed Jintsuu there. "Jintsuu-Mama?"

Also noticing the Light Cruiser, the Ship of the Line gave a nod of her own. "Ah, is it time for Miss Richardson to leave?" With a glance at the clock, the shipgirl hummed. "So it would seem, well, today was a productive practice."
Still on the mat, Jane let out a huff. "Really? Besides having my stern kicked all over the place?"

With a chuckle, Indy helped Jane to a sitting position. "Indeed, Miss Richardson. You're making less mistakes already after all. Now, do your stretches or else you will cramp and then hit the showers! I shall see you in two days."

Only nodding, Jane did as told while Indy stood up and went through the same stretches. After the shower and when they left, Jintsuu gave the girl next to her an amused look. "Don't worry, Jane. Once we get home I'll help rub in some of that bruise healing cream that Harry sent you. And later, you can use that muscle relaxant lotion he also sent, that seems to help with the aches and pains."

Jane gave a small smile at that even with exhaustion on her face. "Yeah, Cuz is awesome like that..."

All Jintsuu did was laugh and nod. Sure, the Richardson home was somewhat crazy, but she loved it. And she saw them all as one big family as well.

 

[darthcourt10]

Lord K Omake: "Oh God, Tenryuu is going to kill you!"

Barricade said:
Or basically:

Posted this back in the old thread.

Also, as a reminder, Re-class are (semi?) submersible battlecarriers. They also have bow torpedo launchers, which, in girl form, forms the 'chin' of their tails. Regina's torp launcher on her tail has been mentioned previously.

So all the direct firepower of a Montana, which is a fleet unto itself, plus a Yorktown's air wing, AND effectively a Gato/Balao sub as well.​

I always forget that the Re-Class is also supposed to somehow incorporate elements of submarines, or at least has some form of torpedo capability.

Because 16-Inch guns and aircraft already aren't enough DPM and reasons to dissuade anything from actually getting closer.

Next to that, some of the more excessive versions of Krasnovia's original design looks positively viable, even if, like most Battlecarrier designs, it would have been a hilariously inefficient and awkward accident waiting to happen had it actually been built.

Not that it would have been viable or economic either. Apparently for the cost it would have actually taken to build one Project 1058 Battlecarrier, they actually could just developed and constructed an individual pair of a Battleship and a Aircraft Carrier. Each of which could do their own job/specialization far more effectively than a Project 1058 BBV ever could have.

Spoiler: Spoilered Because Big

A bunch of neat screenshots of a Google Sketchup model
Spoiler

Spoiler

Spoiler

Spoiler

mikelima777 said:
Krasnovia does understand she is a paper ship, right? ...right?
Harry Leferts said:
Yes? But that just means she has an even bigger chance to prove the power of Glorious AmericanSoviet engineering!​

"Nonsense! Ship of paper- what is this bredkakoyto?! Sovetskaya Krasnovia is vessel of ILLUSTRIOUS and GLORIOUS Soviet Steel! FINEST workings produced of Russian industry's MEANS OF PRODUCTION! Constructed with the fires and STRENGTH of the PROUD patriotic Russian proletariat! Communist HEART and COURAGEOUS DETERMINATION beat in this breast of iron! NAMED, by great Premier of the Soviet Union Stalin himself, for MAGNIFICENT People's Democratic Republic of Krasnovia! Sovetskaya Krasnovia is SWORD and SHIELD for INDOMITABLE Motherland's INSPIRING bulwark of socialism! FUELED by PATRIOTISM, GLORY and WILL of RUSSIAN PEOPLES!"

"Unless you refer to fabrication by capitalist pig-dogs of MACUSA, yes? Well it matters not! For whether in real world or dreamland, it is CALL onf the MASSES which Sovetskaya Krasnovia has answered! Where the proletariat fear and oppressors roam, the WILL of Marx, and Lenin, and Premier Stalin shall answer! DEFENDERS and HEROES of the PEOPLE take Heart, for your villains shall soon be broken and in flight! With shell and plane, I shall carry forth the REVOLUTION and it's INSPIRING DEFENSE!"

"SO! SAY! I! HEROIC FIRST AND LAST BATTLECARRIER OF THE SOVIET UNION! SOVETSKAYA KRASNOVIA!"

Turning around, the battlecarrier looks downward.

"What do you think, Frank of Lands? Maybe it be needing more?"

The battleship glares, having been stuck standing still for the last few minutes with a steaming pot of food balanced upon each hand. "I think you need to get off the table you were supposed to be setting! It's dinner time Kras! You can practice introducing yourself later!"

mikelima777 said:
I think even Regina might state at her and go, "What."​

More seriously, Krasnovia is just completely on another level compared to everyone else. She's Loopier than a box of fruit loops, blunter than a hammer, and has no off button.

As exasperating as she is though, Frankland would be the first in line to punch anyone who would actually try to take advantage of her for it. Not that Krasnovia really needs anyone to defend her. She's baffling, insane, and a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but not stupid.

Harry Leferts said:
The two meeting would be hilarious. Though... no Polikarpov Po-2s?​

As hilarious as it would be for her to use Night Witches-esque tactics or "Bismarck" AByssal ships she has no right to surgically cripple with such old and hilariously out of date (comparatively) planes, she has such a limited air wing, it would probably be better just to leverage as much performance as she can, out of whatever aircraft she could justifiably get her hands on.

Harry Leferts said:
Yeah, a lot of it depends on if any of her crew knows how to cook Russian cuisine.​

"Was zum teufel?!? What the fuck is that?!"

"Is Herring Under Fur Coat! Classic and beloved dish, to induce memories of babushka in even manliest and Siberia-fridge hearted of sailors!"

"It's purple verdammt!"

"Of course! Is sign beets of root are fresh. Gloriously so, looking at this, no?"

"Why Frankland! Why on earth did you think it would be a good idea to let her cook?!?!"

"Well, it is her turn. Besides, as weird as some of the things she makes are, nothing is ever actually that bad. Once she realizes she's not going to get out of kitchen duty by making weird Russian shit until people kick her off of the roster rotation, then there's like a 80-20 chance she makes something American on occasion because she's bored or gets distracted while cooking."

Harry Leferts said:
Yeah, her and Gangut would get along just fine. Granted, Gangut would then proceed to teach her how to be true Russian! Maybe with Comrade Tiny One helping!​

"Damnit Krasnovia, do you realize what time it is?.... wait.... you're WHERE with WHO?!? Oh my god, her mother will kill you if Unzen doesn't get to you first!!! What did you even do?!?! You spent how much on vodka?!?! What happened to the Cadillac then?!?! IT'S WHERE???? HOW ON EARTH DID YOU MANAGE THAT?!?!"

Harry Leferts said:
Hopefully though she does not find out that the name that the Death Eaters went under was originally "Knight of Walpurgis" as that would be a huge slap to the face.​

"Uh.... Walpuraga? .... Walpurga? Your eye.... er..... your eye's- wait, where are you-? Wait! Hey! HEY! Aby! Stop her! Stop her with that- Wait- Aby? Why do you have a portkey? ....OH SHIT, WAIT STOooooppp and you're both gone."

 

[darthcourt10]

Kittle Omake: "DAMMIT, KRASNOVIA!"

Lord K said:
"What do you think, Frank of Lands? Maybe it be needing more?"​

"More what? Name dropping of Royal Navy carriers?"

"I do not follow, comrade. All I am doing is describing the COLOSSUS that is the Soviet Union, and its VENERABLE leader, Comrade Stalin. He was a great WARRIOR, with his vision of spreading the GLORY of Communism across the OCEAN! It is inevitable that our INDEFATIGABLE spirit will be VICTORIOUS and.... why is your eye twitching like that comrade?"

"If you make one more carrier reference, I'll.... I'll...."

"Become FURIOUS?"

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Walking towards the building, Ai had a small frown on her face while Asuka looked around in curiosity beside her. "So... why did they build the Summoning Building here?"

Ai turned away from where she was watching one of the new V-22 Ospreys being used by the JGSDF put through its paces not far off. "It mainly has to do with history." Seeing the confusion on Asuka's face, she gestured around them. "Before WWII, Kasumigaura Air Field was a Naval Air Base. More importantly, it was where the IJN kept Airships."

There was a small frown on the smaller Tengu's face as she digested that before looking towards Ai. "Did you ever see any yourself?"

Slowly, Ai gave a small nod as she smiled. "Yes, I actually remember seeing Airships when they existed. In fact, I remember watching the Zeppelin, Graf Zeppelin, in 1929 when she arrived here in Japan on their world tour. It was..." Pausing, the Kotengu frowned in thought before making a gesture with one hand. "Interesting to see, I suppose."

Head tilted to the side, Asuka frowned slightly. "Did you ever go on one?"

Only shaking her head, the older of the two sighed. "No, I'm afraid that I never got the chance to be onboard one. Not even one of the magical ones that operated before the war."

Just blinking, Asuka furrowed her eyebrows. "Oh." Then shaking it off, she became thoughtful. "I wonder what it would have been like though? To actually be on one."

More then slightly amused, Ai gave her a smile. "Honestly, I doubt that it would be too interesting. Though there are some airships I believe that have sightseeing tours in various places including here in Japan."

Asuka gave a shrug to that though. "Not really the same." It was then that she spotted Gyaru and ran towards her. "Gyaru! Over here!"

Lightly laughing, the pilot came to a stop and waited until Asuka hugged her. Ruffling the hair of the teen, she grinned. "Hey there, Kiddo." Looking at Ai, she gave a small nod. "Tengu, you ready for... whatever might happen."

Sighing, Ai gave a slight nod. "I believe so." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the others beginning to gather. "Though I still do not know why we're all being asked to be here."

Her fellow Abyss Diver only shrugged. "Don't ask me, this sort of thing is not what I am used to. But maybe its because we're Air Force and they hope that might help call Airships back?"

A small frown on her face, Ai considered that before nodding. "That... is more plausible then I would care to admit."

Once more shrugging, Gyaru looked down at Asuka and grinned. "So, one big question remains... Have either of you two made your final bets?"

Nodding with her hands behind her head, the smaller of the two Tengu grinned. "I'm betting on a Tengu. Natsumi-San stated that was a good bet after checking with Potter-San." At the raised eyebrows, she blushed. "According to her Harry-San has a habit of being lucky with bets."

In reply, Ai barely held back from rolling her eyes. "I very much doubt that it would be a Tengu, Asuka. No, more likely it will be something like a fox-girl or some such if anything."

Gyaru, having flipped open a book took down the notes and accepted some money from Asuka, which did get an eye roll from Ai. However, beyond that, the Tengu did not comment on her thoughts. Upon entering the chamber where the summoning attempt was going to happen though, Ai came to a stop and stared. It was Gyaru though who brought up a hand and pointed. "Uh, isn't that your F-15J(S)?"

When Ai gave a nod, Asuka rushed over to look at the plane in question with awe on her face. "Wow! So this is what you fought the... you know, in?" After getting another nod, Asuka began to examine it more closely. "So cool..."

Now frowning, Ai glanced around with narrowed eyes. "But why would it be here..."

Moments later, she jumped a bit as Haru's amused voice came from behind. "That would be rather simple." Ignoring the glare from the pilot, the Kitsune continued with some amusement on her face. "And that would be due to the spiritual weight it holds."

Utterly confused, Gyaru looked from the Fighter to Haru and back at least twice. "Weight? Seriously?"

Only nodding, Haru hummed some. "Oh yes! After all, it did fight a Gashadokuro, in a battle which saw a normally indestructible being destroyed. Beyond that, it has been absorbing wind magic for some time now."

Losing her annoyance, Ai gave her a look of interest. "Absorbing wind magic?"

Slowly, Haru gave a nod to that. "Yes, after all you have been using it as a conduit for the magics natural to a Tengu. Add in the method used to hide it and the frame has become soaked in it. As we're attempting to summon Airships, from our guess it will only increase the chances of it occurring." Frowning, the Kitsune furrowed her eyebrows. "Though from what I heard, part of the reason is that it was found recently in an old warehouse."

Needless to say, that caused the two pilots to blink in confusion before Gyaru held up her hands in a "T" shape before asking the question. "Wait, it was found in a warehouse? Last I heard it was back on base with them looking to see what could be salvaged from it."

With a shrug, Haru shook her head. "It was found in an old WWII era warehouse, I'm afraid. From video records, something happened and it vanished." Gesturing at the aircraft, she continued. "The plane itself was found fixed up and under stasis and preservation charms. Someone magical stole it, though for what purpose..." She then frowned in thought. "Granted, the only thing there was some old tools and what looked like scraps of diagrams on the wall that dated back to the war. Shukaku believes that someone maybe they stole it thinking that it would make hiding what happened easier."

That made Ai shake her head in disbelief before she looked at her plane. Walking over, she placed on hand on the nose and frowned some. Every pilot who was experienced as her and the other Divers had a... connection, of sorts to their plane. The plane in front of her had served the pilot well over the years despite repairs. Once the wing had been torn off, but the engineers had managed to fix it. After all, with how strapped they were for resources one would not throw away an aircraft when there was still a chance of fixing it.

But when she placed a hand on the nose, Ai felt something.

It was as if the plane was much older then it was when she flew it. And not just a bit older, but years older. Something that did not make any sense at all, but it was there. With a shake of her head though, Ai gently rubbed her hand on the nose before feeling slightly sentimental as she whispered to it. "At least here you are safe from the torches and still helping, old friend."

Pulling away, she gave a nod to the plane before following the others as they examined some of the other objects in the chamber along with the other Abyss Divers who had arrived. If Ai had turned back, she might have spotted one of the wing flaps move slightly. Rejoining the others, the Tengu blinked as she noticed three hairs sealed within glass plate. Haru's next words made her jaw drop some. "... And right here are three hairs from Sōjōbō-Sama himself. He heard what we were doing and donated them to help as he is King of the Tengu."

Rapidly blinking, Asuka swallowed. "I, wow... He actually did that?"

With a hum, Haru nodded some. "Hai, though part of it is that there is not too many aviation artifacts. And some were... not allowed here, despite being offered."

Eyebrow raised as he looked at her, Boke frowned. "Such as...?"

Voice drier then a desert, Haru's next words made them all wince. "Certain items such as a sword that was owned by a IJA Kamikaze pilot. Apparently his Ultranationalist son believed that it would be suitable and was rather... annoyed at us when we told him no."

Facepalming, Kero let out a hiss. "No fucking duh that would be a bad idea. What kind of idiot would think otherwise?"

All Haru did was shrug at that before gesturing around them. "Thankfully, we had other items that we could use for the ceremonies." Everyone then heard the sound of wheels and turned to see a cart with the Summoning Materials brought in. Steel girders, cloth, aluminum, and air tanks that were filled with either hydrogen or helium were brought to the right placement and then set down. Clapping her hands, Haru smiled some. "And it is now time to start..."

Simply glancing at each other, Ai and the others walked towards the Summoning Pool with an excited Asuka beside Ai. After all, this was the first summoning that she had been to and she could not wait. Unknown to her, of course, it was also the first summoning that the other Abyss Divers and Ai had been to as well. Once they were gathered, the group waited and watched as first water was poured into the pool from jugs that had been brought in, after which dry ice was then added. All too soon, the sunken area of the pool was filled with mist from the dry ice, as if a cloud had come to rest there.

Once that was done, Haru lead another Miko in the proper ceremony while a Shinto Priest performed his actions alongside a Buddhist monk. Granted, Ai narrowed her eyes some in suspicion at the Shinto Priest as she did remember one Yosuzume who looked a lot like him...

Time went on as the ceremony completed itself before a band nearby played first Kimigayo which was also sung. And then that was followed by first Warship March with the Army Review March afterwards. Everyone there could feel a charged atmosphere in the air with hairs prickling and goosebumps spreading. Both Ai and Asuka could sense the swirling of the air currents in the room, carrying the smell of incense. For everyone else though, the only sign of that was the flickering of the candles set up. The Shinto Priest stood before the pool and closed his eyes as he bowed to it. "Steel... Ammunition... Aluminum... Fuel... Canvas... and the gas that raises one to the clouds above. All of these we offer in tribute to services gladly rendered and ask, humbly, for a return to service. We ask this of the Kami of the sea and of the sky to allow for those who would return, to do so."

For several moments there was nothing before Asuka pointed and whispered excitedly. "Look! The stuff is vanishing!"

Sure enough, when they looked the summoning material vanished into sparkles of light which flowed into where the summoning pool was. Almost a minute passed where the only sound was the violent sloshing of water that could be heard and then a voice spoke up. "What's this now? Did someone call me?"

Another joined the first one with confusion. "You? I thought that they were calling me!"

Yet another voice spoke up. "HA! Obviously they were calling me!"

The first voice though spoke up with utter befuddlement. "Well, whoever they called, they got us. Though what the heck happened? I mean, we got hands and such!" Seconds later, the first of them burst out of the clouds and looked around curiously, though she noted that one of those there who was beside a teen was pinching her nose. Ignoring that, she gave herself a once over. She was dressed in a sleeveless white blouse with black pencil skirt and her airbag on her back.

Not to mention two black feathered wings.

Continuing her examination, her gaze fell onto her feet which had Tengu-geta that had propellers on them. Running her hand along her face though, she hummed at feeling a normal, if pretty face. With a nod, she turned to the highest ranking member there and gave a salute as the other two Airshipgirls, who looked somewhat similar to her rose out of the mist and did much the same. "Navy Type Three Airship, reporting for duty!"

One of the other Airshipgirls gave a sharp nod even as she shot a narrowed look at the other Tengu-like being. "Imperial Japanese Army Airship, Kai-shiki I-go! Ready to serve!"

The final one though blinked and gave a shrug before saluting. "Airship Type 6, here!"

Even as everyone looked at the last one, they could note small lights flying around her with Ai groaning softly as she pinched her nose even harder and muttered. "Great, and there is one of the magical ones... At least she did not say that..." Already, she could feel a headache coming on, not just from that but the appearances of the Airshipgirls.

 

[darthcourt10]

U.N.Spacey000

Because I haven't done anything here recently and I said I wanted this.

Disney Song Plot Progression is marginally easier when you blatantly thieve parody are inspired by something else.

*-*-*

Tillman Prepares for Adventure!

Juuchi Yosamu reclined on the couch eating a blood orange while looking through SGO on her phone. She smiled when she noticed QueenOfTheNorth had updated Star Crossed Under the Starshell and began to read.

QueenOfTheNorth said:
"Alright, I have a plan," Tillman said to her butler/nanny.

Ruth, the impeccably dressed Ru-class battleship, adjusted her gloves and waited.

"Aren't you going to ask her what her plan is?" Talia asked.

Ruth momentarily contemplated ignoring the Ta-class battleship dressed as a high school delinquent before she said, "I am certain our lady will tell us what her plan is whether I ask her or not."

"Ruth," Tillman whined.

"Very well, what is your plan, my lady?" Ruth asked patiently.

"Well, you know how you shot down my last plan because there was no way to reasonably resupply myself or anyone I took with me to Japan? I now have a workaround – say hello to U.S.S. Belleau Wood," Tillman said grandly as she waved to the listing hulk docked to the side.

The other Abyssals stared at it, and the collection of Ta-class battleships that made up Tillman's escort were uncouth enough to let their jaws drop.

U.S.S. Belleau Wood was one of the five Tarawa class amphibious assault ships roughly the size of a Second World War aircraft carrier. In her heyday, she managed to carry around two thousand marines at a decent enough twenty-four knots. There was just one problem – she had been decommissioned since 2005 and had not been serviced at all. Originally, she had been slated to be expended as a target, but Blood Week occurred, the USN took heavy losses, and someone realized that they might want to retain ships for future island invasion rather than build new ones from scratch, so she was mothballed at Puget Sound.

Then, the nuke hit, and the USN lost access to everything in mothballs there.

Not that Tillman was complaining – their loss was her gain.

She just needed to refurbish the vessel and then she'd be able to sail across the Pacific and still have access to a bed, shower, and mess.

It was such an obvious answer to long range patrols and deployment that Tillman was rather flabbergasted to hear that the humans had not done the same thing with their other amphibious assault ships.

Well, there was the fact that the USN was too busy fighting foes close to home – i.e., her mom – to consider far away enemies, but the point remained.

"She is not sea worthy," Ruth pointed out.

It was true. The nuke that turned Puget Sound into a major Abyssal holding had done Belleau Wood no favors, and the intervening decade of neglect had worsened her condition.

"I never said it would be easy, just that it was doable – humans repair busted ships all the time," Tillman said.

"We've worked with worse before," Talia said slowly as though she was trying to acclimate herself to the idea of repairing a steel hull ship.

"How does that phrase go again? I heard you like ships, so I put ships in your ship so you could ship ships in your ship?" Ruth asked dryly. "It does make a certain amount of sense, I will give you that."

"We could have one of those Q-ships crawl into it and use it as a shell?" Talia asked more than said.

"No, they tend to grow to fit the ship they inhabit so there would be no room for supplies and defeat the purpose of taking her," Ruth said with a slow shake of her head. "We will need to actually restore and refit her for our needs."

"That ship is garbage and so is this plan," Tamami said as she stared at Belleau Wood.

"Yeah? What useful suggestions do you have, huh?" Tillman asked.

"I have useful suggestions," Tamami said as she bristled.

"Yeah? How about you?" Tillman asked another Ta who had been giggling at the wrecked amphibious assault ship.

"Who, me?" Tabor asked.

"Yeah," Tillman said as she leaned toward the Ta-class.

"Well what about Taipa?" Tabor said in an attempt to deflect.

The Ta-class who had been trying very hard to stay out of the conversation by closely examining her fingernails realized she had been put on the spot and intelligently said, "What? Hey – I – uh – I –"

"That's what I thought," Tillman said in a disappointed tone before she perked up and patted the side of the old ship. "This ship could be a major piece of machinery, do you know that?"

Tillman then gave it a nudge that caused the ship to rock and Talia to cringe before the paper battleship said, "Now, look at it like this…"

The assembled Tas shared a look while their leader began to take off her overcoat.

"Why, this ship could be systematic," Tillman said before a musical beat sounded.

"Hy-dro-matic," she said as she continued to take off her coat which was followed by another beat that caused the Tas to begin nervously anticipate what would happen next.

"Ul-tra-matic," Tillman drew out while Ruth backed away from her charge.

"Why, she could be grease lightnin'!" Tillman shouted triumphantly as she discarded her coat dramatically while some of the Tas cheered 'grease lightnin'!'

"We'll get a gravin' dock and advanced superheaters, oh yeah," Tillman sang while music swelled around her and she led her escort to a scaffolding platform at sea level suspended by thick cables

"Keep talkin', whoa, keep talkin'," Talia sang since she had embraced Tillman's particular brand of crazy long ago.

"Improved oil burners and forced circulation, oh yeah," Tillman sang as she threw the lever once everyone was on the scaffolding.

"We'll get her ready, I'll kill to get her ready," Talia sang back as the gaggle of Abyssals ascended into the air and were swung onto the Tarawa's deck.

"Double reduction on the floor will get us out the door," Tillman sang as she led her merry bunch of misfits up the conning tower and into the bridge. "You know without a doubt, we'll be cruisin' in and out, in Grease Lightnin'."

"Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go," the assorted Tas chanted while Tillman took the helm of the grounded ship.

"Go grease lightnin', you're burnin' through your speed trial," Tillman sang and dance while turning the helm.

"Grease lightnin', go grease lightnin'," the collection of backup singers chimed in.

"Go grease lightnin', the tour'll go for miles and miles," Tillman continued as she spun Belleau Wood's wheel in the opposite direction.

"Grease lightnin', go grease lightnin'," the Tas chanted while Ruth watched from off to the side.

"You are supreme," Tillman declared before her escort group cheered and danced around suggestively. "The fans'll scream."

After more cheering and suggestive jumping and wiggling on the delinquent school girl cosplayers' part, Tillman said, "For grease lightnin'."

"Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go," the collection of battleships chanted Tillman vaulted through a gaping hole in the wall, sailed through the air, and landed on the deck elevator which shuddered under the impact.

"Contra-rotating props with thirty foot rooster tails," Tillman sang as she framed the image she saw in her mind's eye off the back of the ship with her fingers.

The Tas crooned in reply as they threw themselves after their glorious leader. Something holding the elevator gave way under the landing of the four other battleships, and the five began to descend while Ruth watched from the dilapidated conning tower.

"Touch screen plotting tables and rebuilt radar, oh yeah," Tillman sang while her minions continued to croon before the bunch of them sank beneath the flight deck and out of view.

Ruth sighed when she suddenly gained a rebuild, everything became shiny and chrome, and the five troublemakers she was sent to slow down – literally, in some cases – erupted out of Belleau Wood's well deck and punched a hole through the flight deck where they landed some distance away.

"You can sure bet your ass, she'll be a whole new class," Tillman sang as she danced before she started to strut down the flight deck. "You know I ain't braggin', she'll carry battle wagons, grease lightnin'."

"Go grease lightnin', you're burnin' through your speed trial," Tillman sang as she started the chorus again.

"Grease lightnin', go grease lightnin'," Ruth, the Tas, and a plethora of other Abyssal shipgirls that had been drawn to Tillman's singing like adorable forest critters to their Disney Princess sang as they danced.

"Go grease lightnin', the tour'll go for miles and miles," Tillman sang as she mirrored her earlier dancing.

"Grease lightnin', go grease lightnin'," the improvised Abyssal fleet sang back as they copied their flagship's motions.

"You are supreme," Tillman sang before she was interrupted by cheering while a crane hook descended from the heavens. "The fans'll scream."

There was more cheering and suggestive dancing on the part of her entourage before Tillman sang, "For grease lightnin'."

"Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go," the Abyssals chanted while they hopped about, wiggled their hips and chests, and thrust their pelvises as Tillman grabbed the chain and stepped onto the hook before she ascended into the clouds.

The music continued, and the Abyssals were unabated by their leader's absence. No, they kept dancing, though the only one with any stately grace was Ruth. The rest danced with wild abandon and improvised some basic, cosmetic ship maintenance along the way. A few had some massive paint rollers they applied to the conning towers, and others had massive clothes they used to buff some of the chrome followed by their own butts. Talia partially jumped into the hole in the flight deck and pretended to be a synchronized swimmer with her legs in the air as she held onto the lip of the hole with Tabor and Taipa flanking her on their backs with their own legs in the air while Tamami bounced using her knees to bend and threw her hands in the air while she was in the middle of the formation. Talia followed up rolling back onto the flight deck and leaping across the gaping hole so she could rest one foot on the risen rim of the breach.

And then, the heavens opened up again, and down came their leader Tillman – once again wearing her jacket – as she rode a whole steam turbine assembly descended from on high. Everyone stopped what they were doing so they could move into position and guide the massive piece of machinery through the gap in the deck and slot it into place. Tillman hopped backwards to where Talia was, and once the marine engine was in place, Tabor, Tamami, and Taipa trotted out with a replacement piece of decking to seal the hole. The collection of Abyssals posed on the deck, and Belleau Wood's horn sounded twice. Tabor and Taipa passed Tamami some tubes of hair gel which she passed back to Tillman who held them behind her to pour into Talia's hands. The Ta class battleship ran her hands through her hair and styled it while a pair of Ne class cruisers pressed themselves against her flanks in tight formation as she rocked her hips back and forth before she accepted two combs from Tillman passed in the same way to further style her hair while everyone else broke out their combs to do some impromptu styling. Talia then dramatically pulled out a cigarette and lit it with an exploding AA shell.

Tillman then popped up from where she had been almost sitting and led the group on a merry chase full of dancing, twirling, and exaggerated jogging until they got to the bow of the ship where they once again posed as a group with Tillman looking into the formation with her arms raised so the Abyssals on the shore could see the back of her proud Ta-Hawks jacket clearly before she spun around on her heel.

"Go grease lightnin', you're burnin' through your speed trial," Tillman said as she strutted away from the assorted Abyssals across the deck.

"Grease lightnin', go grease lightnin'," the Abyssals sang after Tillman had spun around back toward them and began to strut back.

"Go grease lightnin', the tour'll go for miles and miles," Tillman sang as she spun around a third time and strutted away again with Tabor and Tamami flanking her this time.

"Grease lightnin', go grease lightnin'," the Abyssals sang as the three battleships jogged backwards.

"You are supreme," Tillman said after clapping her hands and raising them which garnered a cheer from her fellow Abyssals before she deliberately lowered them. "The fans'll scream."

Another round of cheers broke out as Tillman began to run around the formation to what would be her spot in the final pose while she sang, "For grease lightnin'."

"Lightnin', lightnin', lightnin'," the Abyssals sang as some of them broke off and others roughhoused while Talia and Taipa set up the forward element of the pose's formation.

"Lightnin', lightnin', lightnin'," the Abyssals sang as the rest of the non-battleship elements peeled off and Tillman slotted between Talia and Taipa.

"Lightnin'," the Tas in the task force sang as Tabor and Tamami took up their position being Tillman.

Reality reasserted itself, the Abyssals lost their upgrades, and all the chrome vanished as Ruth watched from a minimal safe distance away from the singing and wondered if Tillman would ever be able to weaponize her unique ability.

"Come on gals, let's get to work," Tillman said after clapping her hands.
_____

Across the bay, Puget Sound Princess stood with her second – or third depending on the day and her mood – in command as she sipped her bourbon spiked navy coffee and watched her favorite daughter and her entourage dance on the deck of the ruined amphibious assault ship before she said, "I'm putting my money on her claiming it'll be for long range raiding and scouting."

"And you'll invalidate the betting pool if you get involved,"​

The deadbolt on the door clunked into the unlocked position, and Juuchi dropped her phone in her haste to dispel her avatar.

"I'm home," Harry said as he walked through the door into his seemingly empty home.

He slipped off his shoes, walked over to the couch where he spotted Juuchi's sheath sticking up over the armrest, and picked up the phone she had allowed to escape her grasp.

"Oh, hey, Tirpitz has updated her story," Harry said before he walked away with Juuchi's phone.

Once Juuchi got over the mild and not entirely real shock of having her phone stolen by a Potter, she decided she would need to do something to get back at him.

 

[darthcourt10]

Weaver

A/N: This is a direct continuation of my last snippet. For best effect re-read it before reading this one.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Whatever the reaction to the world's oldest lifeboat introducing herself would have been, it was interrupted by the poorly timed arrival of Lewis, Adam and Matthew.

"Hi, sorry we're late, the..."

Lewis seemed to notice the mood of the room and trailed off mid-sentence.

"Er, did something happened?"

Luke filled him in with his usual level of tact.

"Dan just summoned the Zetland."

The three new arrivals' response to that was to stare at the boy in question who buried his face in his hands with a groan.

Zetland on the other hand shook her head with a smile.

"Actually he didn't. I've been around for a long while now, although me being in two places at once and looking like this is a more recent development. I decided to introduce myself not long after you came in but then the lad over there started reciting my poem and it seemed rude to interrupt."

Dan heaved an audible sigh of relief. Adam meanwhile looked doubtful.

"Hang on, how do we know that you are who you say you are? You could just be someone having us on."

It was Vetch who answered the question.

"She is who she says she is. I can tell."

She shrugged.

"It's a shipgirl thing."

Meanwhile Dan had regained his composure. Glancing around the room something occurred to him.

"If we're going to be talking for a while maybe we should take it somewhere more suitable than standing around here where anyone could walk in. There's a cafe next door, it wouldn't really be anymore private but at least there's seats."

Several minutes later and they were in the cafe in question, occupying two tables as far away from the counter and the only other customer as possible. It being a cafe, refreshments had been ordered after some grumbling about the limited wartime menu. So on the table in front of them were three pots of tea, nine glasses of various flavours of cordial, and five slices of homemade raspberry pie. The last of which belonged to the Flower-class corvettes who were eating them with blissful looks upon their faces except for Vetch who looked like she wanted to but turned her attention to Zetland instead.

"So, what did you want to talk to us about. You said you wanted our help, what with?"

The lifeboat, who'd removed her hat and coat before sitting down, shrugged and fiddled with her teacup, clearly unsure if she could even drink its contents.

"A few things. I haven't revealed myself since the first day of Blood Week because I wasn't sure how to explain things to most people so I'd appreciate some advice there. Also, I'm not keen on being stuck here doing nothing. I know why they moved me inland and I appreciate it but knowing what's going on I want to be able to do something, especially now I've got a human body as well as a hull. Trouble is I can't get very far from my hull and even if I could I'm not sure what use an old boat like me would be to anyone."

Vetch looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Well, I'll be happy to help you introduce yourself to people and explain things to everyone and I'm sure that the same goes for everyone else."

There were assorted sounds of agreement from around the tables. Fleur de Lys however put down her fork for a moment and frowned ever so slightly.

"I'm not sure how you're here though. Given the size of your hull it shouldn't have been possible for you to be a shipgirl, summoned or otherwise."

"That's because she isn't, at least not the same kind we are."

Everyone looked at Awa Maru, the liner being the one who'd spoken. Zetland raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, what am I then?"

"You're a tsukumogami."

Luke butted in.

"What, like that tea set who married a battleship in Japan?"

"Yes."

The look of confusion on Zetland's face at Luke's comment necessitated a brief explanation of the hows and whys of a tea set and battleship tying the knot before they could get back on topic.

"A tsukumogami is something that gains a soul upon reaching a hundred years of age. How old are you again?"

Zetland looked thoughtful.

"What year is it?"

"2013."

"Hmm. That'll make me about two hundred and eleven."

"So you would have got your soul a hundred and eleven years ago then."

"That sounds about right. I remember everything before then though. So, what does this mean then?"

Vetch answered.

"It means that things might work a bit differently for you than they did for normal shipgirls, although I don't know what and how much. Tsukumogami aren't exactly well known over here, I think Rose Potter is the first example most people ever heard of, so there isn't a lot of information on the subject."

Awa Maru spoke up.

"I'll be going to Japan soon. I'll see what I can find out. Hopefully there's something that'll allow you to get further away from your hull."

"I'll appreciate it. Still not sure what use I'll be to anyone though."

Dan shrugged.

"We can figure that out later. Even if there isn't anything you can do,which I doubt, everyone involved with the RNLI and plenty others will be happy to meet you. You'll probably have a queue of people wanting to shake your hand."

"Really."

"Yep. You're the world's oldest lifeboat, who saved over five hundred lives. There's poems and a hymn about you and there was a church service commemorating your two hundredth anniversary back in 2002. You're kind of a big deal."

Zetland looked a little awkward at the reminder of her fame. Fiddling with her teacup again she finally took a sip, her eyebrows shooting upwards as she did so.

"Looks like I can drink and taste things after all. It's...interesting Not sure if I like tea though."

"Try adding some suger."

A spoonful was added to her cup and stirred. She took anything sip.

"Better. Oh there's one more thing I could do with some help with. Most of my hull is sound but there's some rot in my flotation chambers that's been bothering me for quite a while. I don't want to put anyone to any trouble but do you think that there's any chance it could be sorted out?"

Everyone else just smiled.

"I don't think that that would be any trouble at all."

 

[darthcourt10]

Snippet 36: S0ngD0g13

Canut knelt before her Princess, head down in shame. "My Princess, I have completed your signet-ring and seal. I have found Arval, and from her learned seidhr."

She drew a deep, shaking breath. "In so doing I was for a time stricken with madness, and the Ring and Seal were crafted from one of your Imps, Commissar Cain, whom I caught and slew. And..." All present saw droplets fall to the floor beneath the Mistress-at-Arms' face... She was... She was crying, weeping openly...

"No knowledge comes without price. Odin sacrificed an eye for a drink from Mimisbrunnr, and hung from the World-Tree nine days and nights with a pierced side to learn the Runes. I... I am unmade, as a Warrior. I physically cannot wield live steel anymore; to even set my hand to the haft of my axe brings me unbearable pain..."

Canut, who had answered to many names; Canut who once had been Stríðsóp of the Northern War-Demon's Fleet and Second-Daughter of the Northern Horde Princess, lifted eyes wet with tears, her stoic nature discarded, and met the gaze of the Ancient Atlantic Gateway Princess. "I am victorious in the task you set me, my Liege, but the victory is a Pyrrhic one and tastes of ash in my mouth. What purpose is served by a Battleship who cannot do battle?" There was a brokenness in Canut's eyes, as though she'd given up entirely...

For what seemed a very long time, the throne room was silent, save for the sobs of the felled warrior. Canut, on her hands and knees, could not stand to see the looks of her Liege and her fellow subjects. Least of all the pain in Lady Angband's eyes at how low she had fallen, at how Ocean Liner Demon held her back with one hand on her shoulder, the other on the hammer Canut had forged for her, thumb rubbing the lightning-engraved head with checked anticipation.

Canut was broken, useless. It shamed her how Ruithidh had to restrain her from opening her own belly with her axe once her price was seen in full. Being forced to turn into her mother, for years, filled the Battleship Demon with dread and terror. What a naïve fool indeed she was, to think such a fate was the worst Fate could smite her with...

But at least she could have waged war. At least she could have earned a death worthy of Valhalla…

From the throne, in a lull between Canut's sobs, Princess Atlantia let out a small, pitying sigh.

"O ye of little faith…"

Canut made an unintelligent sound, born from confusion and wonder.

"Do you truly doubt yourself this much? Do you truly believe in Us this little?"

Canut worked her jaw in puzzlement, trying to divine what manner she could have possibly come to such a conclusion.

"Y-your Highness…? I don't…"

"Was sending you on this quest a mistake?"

Her voice died in Canut's throat, baffling at the notion that the Princess was publicly granting her leave to question her!

"We expect an answer Canut."

"Y-yes it was, your Highness."

The surprise at Canut's answer was less heard and more sensed. And for good reason, Her Highness was the undisputed Sovereign of their realm, and her word was Law. And yet… Her Highness did not seem angered at the defiance or even 'whelmed.' Instead she just seemed… Sad. The princess breathed out again and shook her head before rising to her feet and stepping down to the kneeling, weeping Battleship.

"Oh Canut… You poor short-sighted child. We suspect you have yet to truly understand who We are. We are not Our sisters, obsessed with strength, bloodshed and war for the sake of those things. At Our heart We are more of a Merchant, interested in building, not destroying. In wars of words rather than guns or blades. We do not make mistakes, Canut. We make investments. Investments for the future.

"We look at things and, instead of asking 'how can this kill better than that?' We ask, 'what are all the potential uses of this or that?' Multitaskers are superior to Us than uni-taskers. But more than that are the uni-taskers whose tasks We have no other avenues to gain, to serve Us and Our realm for decades to come."

When she at last stood at Canut's kneeling form, she in turn kneeled down and tenderly removed her helm and placed it aside. Then she pulled back on the mail hood, permitting her long black locks to flow down from her head. And then she cupped Canut's face in her hands, turning her up to face the Princess.

"'What purpose is a battleship who cannot do battle?' A better question is, 'what purpose is a battleship that has no reason for battle?' Canut, this war will not last forever. The day will come when guns will be silent, and swords pulled from their sheaths no more. What good could you possibly serve Us then?"

Canut, face one of shock and surprise, only blinked as Princess Atlantia wiped away her tears and dried her cheeks.

"You have lost your ability to War, true. But you, O Servant, have gained something that you will, in good time, find is much sweeter – ability to Live and Thrive in Peace. Even now, We foresee you as a Master of your craft, forging and making fine things for one and all, foreign and domestic. In addition to your profound talents in weapons and armors, you now can make fine clothing, jewelry and regalia worthy of one such as Us. And what is more, you shall have the opportunity to share your lore, to teach the next generation of such smiths, attaining renown and adoration beyond what you could have as a soldier."

The Princess held out her hand to Canut. And the Battleship Demon, with a small, timid smile on her face, hesitantly took it, and permitted the Princess to help her to her feet.

"O to have but a dozen more such as you amongst Our fleet, who can readily see a path for them to tread in a world at peace. A hobby, a curiosity, something to grant them the dignity of a trade that would gain them esteem out in the world, and husband Our realm to great prosperity. That is what I see as truly worthwhile."

With a regal smile on her face, Princess Atlantia returned to her throne, and leaned forward in though.

"Though, if We were to be totally honest, there is the unfortunate fact that We would lose your services as our Mistress-at-Arms, with Our forces only partly trained in blade work… Canut, you said that it is Live Steel that you cannot wield, correct?"

"…A-aye, your Highness."

"Then… Do not use steel."

In the throne room, one could hear a pin drop as everyone processed what they just heard. After a pregnant pause, Princess Atlantia continued.

"We admit that it is only based on a presumption, but it is a presumption that shall produce a result one way or the other. Canut. Travel due east. There you will find an island, hidden by aged magiks. Travel along its southern coast until you find a forest of old growth Oak trees, of a species unique to this island, and having spent their whole lives soaking up the magic of the land.

"Take from the mightiest tree, in the deepest heart of this forest, a limb sturdy enough for you to work with, and carve it into a staff sufficient to be used as a stand-in for any weapon that you are training in your classes. That done, etch into that staff the runes for strength and hardness, so that it may smite with the fury of any training tool of iron. And then make your drills with it.

"If it works, you will be able to at the least finish your initial task and train Our fleet in swords, axes, daggers and spears. But…

"But if we are wrong, burn it. Burn it and weep no more, for it will not change the past. Instead you must focus on what you are yet able to do, rather than meaninglessly wallow in despair over what you can no longer. Gain experience to hone your new knowledge. And for the training, We leave it to you. Either sit in and correct flaws you see as they train amongst themselves, or find the best students of your class, and pass the torch unto them."

Canut nodded firmly, her face fixed once more in stoic resolve, though it did not reach her eyes. "I will do so, Your Majesty. And, if I may be so bold as to say it plainly, while there are several among the former-sellswords who have skill-enough to teach the blade to some degree, Ruithidh MacHamish foremost among them, if... if the Well's Price has rendered me incapable of fulfilling my duties as Mistress-at-Arms, the one I would say most-capable to succeed me in those duties is your daughter, Lady Angband."

"Oh?"

"Aye. She's learned all it's in my power to teach, and if Skadi in her prime were here to face Angband as she is, I cannot honestly say my sister would emerge the victor."

.................................................

After Canut had taken her leave, she went to her forge and retrieved tools. Angband was waiting when she emerged. "You meant it back there, that I'm on even terms with Northern War Demon?"

Canut nodded. "Have you ever known me to say something I don't mean?"

The Carrier simply shook her head. "You still look like Death with a Broken Keel, Canut. What's on your mind?" Angband asked, some of the brusque, no-nonsense attitude picked up from the Mistress-at-Arms beside her during lessons showing through.

Canut flinched visibly. "So perceptive... Death is precisely the issue. My sisters all rest in Valhalla, and their names and deeds echo even today. I doubt not that in time great deeds, great works, will be attached to my name, but the one thing I most-desired, beyond fame, beyond glory, beyond even my Oath to your mother, is denied me." She paused, turning down a narrow side-passage to escape from public view. "My sisters all rest in Valhalla, and I had hoped one day to see them again in the Mead-Hall of Heroes, when I finally met my end. But I'll never see them again, not in this life nor when Death finally claims me."

Canut tried to steady herself and wiped fresh tears fiercely from her face. "I'll never see my family again, Angband. I can't fight, can't fall in battle, can't enter Valhalla where my sisters rest..." Her breath hitched twice before she marshalled herself. "Forgive me, Lady Angband; the heart of me is turned to water and I fear I'm not fit company right now..."

Canut felt arms around her as Angband hugged her tightly, the Carrier's voice soft in her ear. "Stories are told of Merlin just as often as they are of Arthur and his Knights; is Merlin any less a Hero for wielding a staff and not a sword?"

................................................................

Nine days after her foray to the island, Canut stood before her students. Gripped in her hand was a long staff of oak, capped at either end with Abyssal Steel, and with runes of the same inlaid down its length in coiling, sinuous lines. The Battleship Demon eyed the other Abyssals calmly, then spoke. "By now you've all heard of my journey north, and you've heard of how I can't bear live steel. This is Kjölbrjótr, 'Keelbreaker', and live steel she is not. But i understand that there are certain things that cannot be adequately demonstrated without a proper blade, so I have appointed the most-skillful of you to be my Assistant; such an appointment merits a better weapon, though. Lady Angband, step forward."

When the Princess' daughter had stepped out from the class, Canut reached within her hold and withdrew a long object wrapped in oilskin, presenting it to the Carrier.

Angband unwrapped the object and stared with wonder at the polished oak-wood and the knot-work inlay of intertwined gold, silver, and copper, that, if her eye didn't deceive her, were concealed runic verses; the head of the spear was Abyssal-Steel, shaped like a willow-leaf, with a point narrow-enough to pierce deeply through armor, yet broad-enough to cut with, and below the head were out-thrust wings that bore runic engravings... The entire weapon positively vibrated with Power... "This... This is..."

"That is your Spear, the which is named Trúr Hjarta, or 'True Heart'. Now," Canut said, smiling, "we have a lesson to teach, do we not?"

"Aye, we do."

Canut smiled a feral smile at her students. "I can see it in your eyes, how you all wonder if I can still hold my own, now that I cannot take my axe to you..." The runes on the staff began to glow with eldritch blue light, and the Demon slid into a fighting-stance. "Singly or all at once; it matters not to me..."

Angband watched, True Heart across her shoulders...

In Canut's forge, the hooks on the wall that held the Battleship Demon's famous Dane-Axe were empty...

 

[darthcourt10]

S0ngD0g13

Jackson Graves sat at the bar, pretending to nurse a glass of overpriced rotgut and looking around. For all that Constitution and the Maineacs knew about some of the Magical watering-holes in Boston, they didn't know about all of them. One such dive was the 'Rabid Dog', a blue-collar bar hidden on the western outskirts of Boston proper. Gravedigger was there to meet a man...

A nondescript Wizard sat down next to him. "Evening, Stranger. How ya is?"

Jackson recognized the coded greeting and nodded, replying with the appropriate coded response. "Lonesome, Ornery, and Mean. Lincoln Delgado Davis, at your service."

The Wizard grinned. "Cody Wing, at yours. Friend of mine, and I guess yours too, recommended you for a job I need done."

"Which friend? I've got a lot of friends."

"Pinto Calhoun. Said you'd ridden the rough-string before; I've got some outlaws I need broken."

Jackson took another 'sip', the whiskey barely touching his lips before Vanishing when it reached the enchanted caps over his teeth. As he did, he mentally parsed the meanings in the conversation. Scourer, soliciting me as an assassin... "You just want it done, or do you want me to put on a show?"

"These old nags aren't worth being flashy for; I need'em broke to harness or bound for the glue-factory."

Alright, you asshat, you've taken the hook, now swallow the bait...

"Fair-enough, if the price is right. Twenty-Kay per head plus expenses; good horse-breaking ain't cheap."

"Done. They're prone to wandering but I know they'll be here come the end of the week." A handwritten note and several photos were slid to Jackson by 'Cody'. The images were of Constitution, the Maineacs, and Crowe; the note bore Crowe's home-address and a date and time that corresponded to a planned supper at the soldier's house that weekend.

Jackson nodded. "The stallion; there's a filly tends to run with him from time to time. If she's there?"

"Glue. I've got no need for stock with bad bloodlines."

Jackson affected a frown and shook his head. "Damn shame. She's a pretty one, good confirmation. Oh, and Tolliver?" The Scourer looked up reflexively from his drink at hearing his real name and came nose-to-tip with Jackson's wand. "You're under arrest for Conspiracy to Commit First-Degree Murder and Conspiracy to Commit Terrorism. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can be used against you..."

.............................................

As Tolliver Daggit was being lead out of the Rabid Dog and toward a waiting Auror-Car, he turned and looked at Jackson. "So, how much of what Calhoun said about your history was bullshit?"

Jackson shrugged. "Not much, actually."

The Scourer sneered. "Muggle Army? You actually served in the Muggle Army?"

"Yup. First Battalion, Seventy-Fifth Ranger Regiment."

"You wouldn't catch me dead in the Muggle Army."

"Everyone's got a line they won't cross, I reckon."

"So where's your line, Auror?"

Jackson 'Gravedigger' Graves just smiled; his tone was light but his words were heavy...

"When I find it, I'll let you know."

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Sitting back in his chair outside of where they were going to work on Regalia, Harry glanced around at the Abyssals gathered there. All of them, bar none, looked worried and concerned. Not that Harry could blame them either as the operation that was to be done on Regalia sounded extremely complicated. A soft whine though made him turn to where Silver Belly was looking at the door to the docks. "Is something wrong?"

For a moment, she glanced at the doors before turning to him with her avatar while her true form kept an eye on the entry to where Regalia and the others had gone. "Uncle Harry?" At his nod, she chewed her lip some. Not saying anything, the wizard simply waited for her to sort out her thoughts. When the Abyssal looked at him though, it was with worry written all over her face. "Do you think that Regalia is going to be okay?"

Only reaching out, Harry gently stroked her hair with one hand, and the other stroking the snout of her actual body. "Of course she is, that is sort of a silly question. You got Hoppou and Wanko in there as well as Supprin, all three experienced with Supprin bringing the best stuff she has for Regalia's Rebuild. You also got Tanith and the others there, Norihara, and the like. Regalia is in the absolute best of hands right now-"

All of a sudden, he paused as something tugged at his senses. Whatever it was, Harry could only blink at as he had felt something similar before. But at the time in question, it was just a flicker...

With said event being when Hoppou had found out he had nearly died.

Very slowly, Harry turned to the door and squinted we his eyes glowed. On the other side of the door was something that could only be described as a source of negative light. As if the color in the world was bleeding out into it. Eyes wide, Sunny Honey gasped and looked at it. "Uncle Harry? Do you know what that is?"

Chuckling, he gave a small grin. "I do, that would be Hoppou. And unless I miss my guess, she is getting serious." Gently patting Silver Belly, he smiled. "Which means that Regalia is going to be fine."

Nodding, Nero gave a weak smile. "Yeah, Uncle Harry is right after all."

Even though the others chimed in, with Ruadri trying her best to agree, Harry could see that they were all worried. Not that he could really blame them in any case, especially now with this. Furrowing his eyebrows though, he tried to come up with a way to get everyone's mind off it.

Suddenly, an idea struck him.

Quickly pulling out his phone to the confusion of most of the Fleet of Laughter, Harry dialed a number and put it against his ear. After a few moments, Akebono's voice came through. "Moshi, moshi! Akebono, Kushiro Naval Base, how can I help you?"

Letting out a chuckle, Harry smiled before noticing that SmolGina had already pulled out a notepad. "Akebono-Nee? It's Harry."

Confusion colouring her tone, Akebono's frown was apparent through the sound of her voice. "Harry-Chan? What seems to be the issue?" There was a pause before she continued. "Did something happen?"

Just shaking his head even though she could not see it, Harry gave a hum. "Not yet. I mean, I'm pretty sure that they started just now. But I'm calling for another reason."

Several moments came and went before the Destroyer replied to that. "Another reason? What sort of reason?"

Now grinning, Harry clicked his pen and began to write. "Well, I need a favour from you. I know that your busy right now, but... I can trade you something for it if you want. Nothing too big though."

There was a hum before Akebono answered. "Anything, huh? Well, it is a favour. At most we'd want something like one of those wizard treats. Like a box of cauldron cakes or..." Out of the phone, Harry could just hear Kasumi say something. "Or some of that magical ice cream. So, what do you need?"

With a slow nod, Harry chuckled. "Well, I need a sheet."

Part of Harry could just imagine the utter confusion on Akebono's face. "A sheet? Like paper or..."

Raising his pen in a gesture even though he knew that she could not see it, Harry shook his head. "Fabric actually, white fabric at that. You know, the sort of ones used for banners which are really big? As long as nothing is on it anyways and you don't mind it being... lost, as it were."

On the other end there was a snort and Kasumi's voice came through. "Harry-Chan? We got plenty of those. They were in one of the supply shipments that we got here with them supposed to be used for some festival or what have you. But they sent us too much, so... yeah, we got them for you."

Making another note, Harry hummed a bit. "Great! That's awesome, Kasumi-Nee! Mine also adding some paints, brushes, and the like? I'd really appreciate it."

Akebono then spoke up. "That's not a problem at all, Harry-Chan. We can do that easily. But why?"

On Harry's face was a grin before he answered. "For Regalia actually. And thanks again."

Both Destroyers, despite their confusion only acknowledged his thanks before hanging up. Watching him, Regina tilted her head to the side. "Harry? What is going on?"

Grin still on his face, Harry clapped his hands together. "There is a very simple answer to that, Regina! We're going to get ready for a party!"

Just as the other, confused Abyssals were about to ask, Revina popped out from behind Harry's chair with an explosion of confetti. Where and how she hid, no one had a clue. "A party! Awesome possum! I love parties! Especially parties that come from nowhere with no excuse! Those are some of the best ones!"

Even though he was confused as to where she came from, Harry just chuckled and tapped her on the nose. "Not out of nowhere, Revina. No, we're going to throw a party for Regalia once she gets out. An awesome one with a banner we've all written on and everything!"

Her eyes widening, Revina gasped comically before grinning. "That's even better then a surprise party where the surprise is that the party was happening! A super duper 'We're glad that your all fixed and everything, Regalia, because your awesome!' party is a great idea!" Throwing an arm around Regina, she pulled her sister in close. "Isn't that right?"

Flushed, Regina gave a slow nod. "U-um, yes? I mean, it does sound good?"

Pumping her fist, the other Re-Class grinned. "Alright!"

Meanwhile the other Abyssals were whispering among themselves even as they got a bit more excited. A party? For Regalia when she came out as a celebration? That sounded like a good idea. Harry then clapped his hands and nodded. "Okay people! We don't know how long this will take, but we should have plenty of time to greet Regalia once she comes out! And when we do, she'll be so freaking happy and surprised at what we did! Now, time to sort ourselves into groups as to whom is doing what! And remember, we'll all sign the banner with our own messages for Regalia!"

One of the Destroyers who didn't have an avatar raised a flipper at that. "Um, Uncle Harry? But what about those who can't write?"

Giving her a smile, Harry walked over and patted her on the head gently. "Then just ask one of us who can and we'll write it for you. We'll even place some paint on a flipper so that you can sign it before washing said flipper clean."

Now all of the Destroyers were getting excited and Chiana cleared her throat. "How are we going to do this exactly?"

Harry just nodded at that. "Excellent question! And the answer is that we'll split up into groups to get everything ready, though there will be a rotation here to make sure that Hoppou and the others are guarded of course." There were nods at that and he turned to Regina with a smile. "Regina? I need you to head out with some of the others. Get some paper, paints, crayons, brushes, and the like." Pulling out a wallet, the wizard went though it and handed her some bills. "This should cover it. Oh! And some tape as well so that we can hang up the pictures."

Eyes wide, Regina gave him a salute. "You can count on us, Harry."

A smile on his face, Harry's next words brought out a blush on her cheeks, though her smile did brighten. "I know that we can. See you in a bit, Regina." Once she walked off, the black haired boy turned to the next one. "Okay, Chiana? I need you and the others to scrounge up some chairs and tables. Nothing big, though go ask Settsu or one of them if they know where some are." As the Cruiser nodded, Harry turned to Revina who was already blowing up balloons she got from somewhere and shrugged. "After you're done with that, find us some music, Revina."

Widely grinning, said Abyssal laughed. "Okie doki, Loki! Will do!" Then she went into a pose with fingers of one hand pressed against her head. Meanwhile, those on the other were making a motion as if against a record. "DJ Revina is in the house and ready to lay some sick beats down for this rockin' party for a rockin' gal!"

Briefly, while watching her nodding tail, Harry considered asking where it got the sunglasses, bandana, and heavy gold chains hanging from it. But then he decided to shrug it off. "Hence why I'm leaving that up to you." Ignoring the rest, Harry then turned his attention to Nero who was giving odd looks at Revina who was now rapping. "Nero? I need you to help me set up some food for the party. Including a cake for Regalia..."

Onwards, Harry sorted them into groups to do one thing or another when not guarding. For example, there was one group setting up decorations around. Watching them, Harry was surprised as Ruadri suddenly hugged him from behind. "Thank you, Uncle Harry."

Blinking, the thirteen year old looked over his shoulder at the Ru class. "Hmm? For what?"

Still smiling, the Abyssal Battleship gestured towards the groups. "For what you did. Look at them, they were worried about Regalia and what was happening. But you then went and gave them both to take their mind off that, and to make them believe that everything will turn out right."

Chuckling, Harry scratched his cheek. "I guess, though like I said, everything will turn out fine. Hoppou is the best after all along with Big Sister. So why not? And it gives Regalia something when she comes out."

That only got him another hug from Ruadri before she let go and stood beside him watching what was happening. 'We really do have the best uncle...'

 

[darthcourt10]

NotHimAgain

I have taken a break from diddling around and sometimes working on different steps to write this!

You may all facepalm now.
-----

As the door opened, Houshou looked up from the table she was wiping to greet her customer. "Hello, there! Just give me a oh my, I'll be right with you." Dropping her rag, she all but ran over to the pregnant woman standing in the doorway and helped her into a seat. "Is everything alright, Miss? Can I get you anything to—"

"I'm fine, really," the girl said, trying to wave her off. "I just need a…" she trailed off, coughing slightly. "Okay, so something to drink would be nice."

Houshou left and returned with a tall glass of water, which she pressed into her hands. "I take it your Ushio's friend, then?" she asked. "The one that she's helping to get a job?"

"Ashida Yae, that's me," Ashida-san grinned sloppily, accepting the drink. "Thanks."

"I understand that you might want to take your mind off of things," Houshou said, "but don't you think you should be taking things easy right now?" As Ashida-san looked up towards her, beginning to glare, she hastily added "You aren't only taking care of yourself now. You need to think of your child."

Ashida-san's glare left her eyes. She looked down at her stomach, resting a hand on top of it. "Yeah, I know," she admitted. "And it's not like I don't appreciate what everyone's doing for me, either… I'm just… active. Like I've always been. And now that I have to sit down and be careful all the time…"

"It's difficult," Houshou ascertained. Ashida-san laughed.

"Try torture," she replied. "And I love getting to sit down and watch all my old shows all the time, but… After a while, you start realizing that you want to do something more physical. So, I've been getting to know the place. Cause I'm going to work here, you know?"

The door swung open, and someone poked her head in. "Hey, is Virginia-san around? We were wondering—ooh, hey!"

"And here come the piranha," Ashida-san huffed, easing herself back into the seat. Houshou snickered at the description, and rose.

"Don't worry," she replied. "I'll try to talk to the destroyers. You just… well, try to get a little rest."
-----

Renata spun in lazy circles across the water. Looking back at the beach, her eyes briefly came to rest on the two sitting on the pier, feet hanging down over the water. She snorted. Wasn't going to pretend to understand what was going on between them. Romance was one of those things that generally went over her head—one of those things that sat in the itchy area between asleep and high speeds, that she was never really interested in slowing down long enough for.

"Well," she said, turning to review the expanse of water, "at least something good had to come of this escort mission."

That something good: more area than the little sliver of territory that the Twin Princesses had carved out for themselves without looking for more. And even better, Ruri had gotten to come to so that she could continue to gape over the one battleship with the really, really big melons. Ruri… liked those. Another thing Renata couldn't claim to understand. But right now?

She didn't have to.

Then, in a spray of water, something whizzed past her.

"Huh?"

As she watched, it looped around to draw to a brief halt at her side, a small Shipgirl in questionable garb and a massive hair ribbon that stood up like a rabbit's ears. She stuck out her tongue at Renata, and then was gone. The Re-Class watched the dovetail form as she drew away, and grinned.

"It's on," she smirked.
-----

She would be going to visit the grave again tonight, Akechi Sayaka told herself.

Even if no one could remember what exactly had happened, she did it every day. It would never make things right, that she knew, but it was the only thing she knew to do. So as she knelt by the fish tanks, her friends' chatter drifting in and out of her attention, she thought out what she would tell Momo when she visited that night. How she would apologize to her little sister again.

"So, hey," she mumbled, running her fingers over the exposed edge of the tank. "there's no real changes at home. Mom and Dad still don't remember what I did to you—they still think it was a car accident. They keep telling me that I'm dealing with trauma, or survivor's guilt or some kind of crap, but… I know what I did. And I'm sorry, I…" she shook her head, trying to banish the thought. She needed to be less negative—if she wasn't, she would make Momo sad. Or maybe it would be best to get it all out before she talked?

"It's my fault, what happened to you. So it should have been me."

"… Excuse me?"

She turned to look up at a western boy. Black hair, glasses, maybe a few years older than her… but his Japanese had been pretty good, so maybe he was raised here or something?

"Sorry," she said, standing, "it's nothing."

"If you say so," he replied, and she cursed internally when she realized that he didn't believe her. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Harry Potter-Nagato."

"Akechi Sayaka," she said, taking the offered hand hesitantly, "Likewise." The name tickled slightly, as if she had run into him before somewhere…

"Harry! There you are!" the door swung open—wait, no one she had come in with was here, had they left without her again?—and one of the upperclassmen stormed in. Ono Natsumi, or something, she was—wait. Harry Potter-Nagato. Hadn't he been in her school at some point? "Geez, I've been looking all over for you!"

"Sorry, sorry," Harry grinned placatingly, "I just wanted to get out of the sun for a couple of minutes." Natsumi crossed her arms and huffed. She turned away before Sayaka could really get a look, but had there been a little bit of a blush on her face?

"I—wait a second," Natsumi cut herself off, looking over at the fish tank that Sayaka had just been kneeling by. "Does that fish have little muscle-arms?"

All that Sayaka had time to think before every fish tank in the pet store exploded in perfect unison was 'Oh no, not again.'
-----

If you can't remember Sayaka, she was from my last few snippets in the old thread. She has problems.

Well, what do you think sirs?

 

[darthcourt10]

SoulessScotsman

"And you're certain it's been dealt with?" Connie asked, mood as black as her coffee.

Graves shrugged, "We haven't run down all the leads, yet, but it's a good start. Ol' Tolliver'll talk. They always do."

Captain William Anderson stared at the wall of Connie's office, mind furiously trying to make sense of what he'd just heard.

"Tell your boss that he has Admiral Shepard's enthusiastic help if he'd like it. This entire thing has her spoiling for an opportunity vent some frustrations. We haven't had a chance to do that since the last Abyssal Cult tried to assassinate me."

"I'll tell him, but you know how he is," Graves replied, "He's more likely to just ignore it than anything else."

"Graves," Anderson said, voice utterly devoid of emotion, "Was he working with anyone?"

Again, Graves shrugged, "He's a Scourer. I'd be surprised if he wasn't, but I've seen stranger."

Crowe took a steadying breath, "If he was, I want to be there when you take them down. I want to look the dead sonuvabitch who ordered a hit on my daughter in the eye, put my boot on his neck and dump a mag in his chest."

"It probably won't come to that—"

"Graves. These Darwin Award winners were planning to have Corvina killed. I want their heads mounted on pikes."

The Auror cast him a long, considering look, before nodding, "Alright."

Anderson let out a breath, "Thank you."

---------------------------------------------

That night, Connie stood on the Widow's Walk of her home, staring out into the Bay.

"So," she said, "Halifax waking up had some...ripples."

The red-head wearing a boilersuit lounging on one of her chairs sleepily waved her off, "Not really. Boston rolled over in her sleep and kicked me. I'm going back to sleep after this. Just thought I'd see how my favorite frigate was doing."

"Poorly."

"Hm."

Connie turned and raised a brow at the read-head, "That's all you have to say?"

She yawned, "You'll live. You're the single hardest to kill ship ever built. Buncha' fucknuts like that? They ain't long for this world."

Connie snorted, "That's fair."

"But don't think I won't be going over every goddamned inch of your hull when I properly wake up. I heard those creaks."

The Last of the Six Frigates went red, "I'm fine, dammit!"

"The hell you are," a new voice piped up, "I'm no expert on you wood-hulls, but even I thought that sound was concerning."

Connie rounded on the speaker and found herself staring at a tired looking woman of obvious Native American decent in a boilersuit leaning on the railing. A pair of welders goggles rested on her forehead and a large wrench/sledgehammer leaned on the rail next to her.

Connie boggled, even as her companion waved lazily at the new arrival, "...Bath? What are you doing here? How are you awake?"

"Call me Ferra. To the second: Charlie's shouting woke me up. To the first: How many ships you got here that were made in my yards? Some of them? Most of them? More than that, how many have been to my yards for work? Either way, that's enough. Thought I'd say hi before I went back to sleep, maybe pass on a message. Scuttlebutt is you're going to Japan. That right?"

Unsure what was going on, Connie nodded, "I am."

"Good. Further scuttlebutt is that a certain little Eldritch Horror did something that, given all conventional knowledge about shipbuilding, should be impossible," the Spirit of Bath Iron Works leaned forward, an intense look in her eyes, "Tell her 'Good work,' from one shipwright to another. And that I want to have a long, long conversation about shipbuilding with her when I wake up again."

"Seconded," the other shipyard-girl mumbled.

"Dare I ask why?" Connie drawled.

Ferra ginned, "It's not everyday I hear of someone willing to take on a 'lost cause' rather than scrap it. Usually it's my kids who do that."

"Bath Built is Best Built," Connie found herself saying.

"Damn straight," Ferra said over her sister's mumbled protests.

Connie pinched the bridge of her nose, "I'll tell her if I see her."

"Good 'nough. 'Night, Connie. 'Night, Charlie. And tell Captain Shepard that Salem's in good hands."

"I would expect nothing less. Good night, Ferra," Connie replied.

"Mrgl," the mostly asleep Boston Naval Yard replied.

 

[darthcourt10]

RBomber

NotHimAgain said:
Well, what do you think sirs?​

...I remember those particular stories.

...Whelp. Here's something a liiiitle bit lighthearted.

****

Invisible, unheard by most people, spirits, and everything in general, a haunting, melancholic tune can be heard. The melody soothes the lashed out anger of recently Dead, and dulling out their sadness. The melody pacifies Dead, mostly children, and keeping them from bothering the Living.

The melody came from a young-looking spirit, in a fluffy kimono and a blindfold. Around her, spirits of dead children gathered, both corporeal and in the form of hitodama. They danced and play, following the tune.

Well, most of them.

Then there is this one, peculiar, spirit.

She wasn't particularly angry or malicious or anything like that. In fact, she was pretty sweet girl, all things considered. It's just, well....

Her death involving too many strings attached. Secrets, hatred, evil.... So many things tangled, practically prevent her to either pass on or became something else.

At this point, she's thankful she didn't become something with grudge.

"Hello, Momo-chan. How are you doing?"

"...Onee-chan came."

Oh dear.

"That's... good."

"I want to see Onee-chan."

Oh dear.

"I want to say I forgive her. I want to say I'm sorry. I want to meet Father and Mother and say I'm sorry. I want-"

"Um, uh, okay. Why won't you... came here and... um, play with us?"

"...Okay."

The spirit release the breath she didn't know she was holding. So far, so good, but sometimes you'll never know with kids like her.

Then she... not exactly felt, but she somehow knew. She looks around....

And see a figure standing tall in one of the electric pole. Clad in black suit, with skin as black as obsidian, hair as black as the coal, and wing and eyes with the color of night.

The presence didn't emitted any perceiveable Power. The thing is, he or she (not really sure the gender, or if hr or she had any gender) didn't have to.

3 months ago, there's a major incident in neighbouring county. There's quite a lot of dead children. Naturally, she and some of her kin was there.

Unnaturally, this involves a dark magic ritual, which, of course, requires Human Sacrifice. Some of more... Powerful Presence appeared to claim the Souls of the dead. Including the dead children.

It was a total mess. Two of her kin had to Open their Eyes.

And then The Presence In Black came. The more predatory Presence mock him... her... and attacked.

And, casually, they failed. And get Banished.

The Presence In Black casually stated all the True Name of everyone. Herself included. And with same plomp, as in, casually, The Presence In Black unravel all the tangled mess that could be one of the greatest Grudge in this decade into nothing.

She also learned, after the whole mess resolved, that The Presence In Black, well, presence, often heralded great calamity and disastrous event ahead.

And then, The Presence In The Black notice her. She gulped.

"Uh, um, hello-"

"Hello, Little Piper."

"...Please don't call me that."

Her charge laughed at her.

"Do Not Be Afraid. Your Time, and your charges', hadn't Came. Yet."

Curiosity get a better of her.

"There will be Calamity tonight?"

"...Maybe not, but there would be death. But death always happened. Death would always came."

She felt a bit relief. Well, what would happened, be happened. Speaking of-"

"Um, Sir? Ma'am? What's your name?"

"...Not the right question, but it's fine. What Am I?"

She became quiet. Well, she Knows, or at least she think she knows, but to state it would, well....

"Do Not Be Afraid. No need to Fear The Reaper, for All Harvest would inevitably Cared By The Reaper."

"...If the Harvest don't want to met The Reaper?"

"Well, you know. What happened if Harvest didn't met The Reaper?"

She had no answer for that.

*****

Hopefully, this is good enough.

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Regalia looked around in utter confusion at the white, glowing mist that surrounded her on every side. All there was around her was a sort of white blankness, in fact the Abyssal was not even positive that there was a "Ground" that she was standing on, despite feeling something under her hooves. And sure, she could somehow feel her mother, aunts, grandmother, as well as the other Princesses. Their love and care for her. And she could also hear them as well, her mother's voice coming from somewhere that she was unable to see.

But that still did not help her try and figure out what was going on. And that scared her- "There's no need to be scared, Regalia."

Whipping around, the Re-Class blinked at the sight of a red haired woman walking up to her with a kind expression on her face, one directed at Regalia. Said woman had rigging which meant a shipgirl, right? "W-what? And who are you?"

Chuckles made her blink as a man walked out with a lopsided grin. "Well, we're-"

Suddenly, Regalia had a confused look on her face and pointed at him. "Uncle Harry? What are you doing here... wherever here even is? And why do you look different?"

Rubbing the back of his neck in a very familiar way, the man gave a sheepish chuckle. "Actually? While I know that people say he looks a lot like me, I never thought that I would be mistaken for him. Heh, still good to know he has my good looks, Lils."

Lily Potter only rolled her eyes and was about to comment when Regalia began panicking a bit. "Regalia? Is something wrong?"

Finger shaking, Regalia pointed at them both. "Y-you Uncle Harry's pa-parents. B-but you're dead and your being here means that I'm d-d-dead..."

Before she could get much further, Lily was right there and hugging her. "No, you're not dead Regalia. Far from it! We're here because, well..." There was a bit of bemusement on the red head's face. "I wanted to meet my Great-great granddaughter and to be there for her in this time."

Calming down, the Abyssal relaxed into the warmth of the hug. The same sort of warmth that her uncle had with his, one that seeped into you and made everything seem better while letting you know that the person loved you. At the same time, James walked over and joined in. Once Regalia was calm enough, she glanced around in befuddlement. "But If I'm not dead... then how are you here? And where is here?"

Lightly chuckling, Lily shook her head as she brushed some of Regalia's hair with one hand. "The answer to both of those is the same as a matter of fact. Where we are right now is limbo, after a fashion. It's a place where the World of the Living and the World of the Dead and Spirits meet. We also got some pull here, and James? I swear if it you launch into the song about having friends on the other side, I will hit you."

Seeing the pout on the black haired wizard's face, Regalia giggled some. Unnoticed by her, Lily shot a wink at her husband, his lips twitching in reply. Straightening, James hummed for a moment. "Not much to look at though, is it?" When the Re-Class shook her head, he raised a hand and waved it around causing the mist to dissipate like the morning fog beneath the hot, summer sun. "There we go."

After it was fully gone, Regalia gasped and her jaw dropped as she realized that they were on a cut stone platform. Part of her noted that it extended backwards into the mist, but that was not what had her attention for more then a brief few seconds until she noticed other things. No, it was what was surrounding the platform that they were all on.

Stars.

Uncountable and blazing among nebula and other celestial phenomena.

Regalia could just see some sort of surface stretching onwards into eternity. Almost like glass that had waves that was nearly invisible with stars above and below. Tilting her head back, the Abyssal could see a massive spiral above, one made of stars slowly spinning as it drifted. "Wow... is that?"

Standing beside her, Lily tilted her head. "The afterlife for good Abyssals? As a matter of fact it is." With a smile on her face, she glanced around with an expression that showed how beautiful she found the surroundings. "Rather impressive to be honest."

Watching, Regalia could see the stars, nebula, and even the odd comet moving as they observed them. Even the galaxy above was in motion as if the platform was not staying in one place, but rather travelling the universe, drifting with an unseen tide upon the ocean of the cosmos. Sitting down, Regalia drew her legs in close and sat there drinking in everything within sight while Lily and James took the spots on either side, their arms on her shoulders. "It's beautiful... just like Aunt Ruadri said it was."

Placing an arm around her, Lily hummed. "It is." Then her smile widened a bit more. "Ah, there we go! And here come the others."

At Regalia's confusion, James snorted. "What? You think that only we would be here? Nope!"

It was then that Regalia was shapes moving among the stars. Shapes her soon resolved into the forms of hundreds of Abyssals, all of whom stepped onto the platform that widened itself. For some odd reason, they all looked familiar to Regalia though she was certain that she her never met any of them before this point. But on all their faces was the same, warm expression that she had become used to from her aunts. Before she could wonder more though, one of them, a Ta-Class, walked over to her before grinning and ruffling her hair. "Heh, so you're little Tanith's daughter, huh? Well, have to say that you're a great kid to say the least. She did a great job raising you, just like Mom."

Jaw dropping as she realized who she was surrounded by, Regalia looked around at her deceased aunts. All of them had similar comments to the first one and were complimenting her on what she did. A few were even mentioning how proud they were for doing what she could for their living sisters and that her farm impressed them. Feeling tears come to her eyes, the Re-Class wiped them away. "W-why are you all here... for me?"

Crouching down, a Ru-Class gave her a soft smile before hugging her. "Why? Because you're our niece. And we'll be keeping you both company here while you wait for Mother to be done and also to protect you from anything." At the odd look from Regalia, the Abyssal chuckled and pointed at Earth which now floated by. A sight that took Regalia's breath away. "Mother and our sisters will handle things on that side while we take care of you here. Now, we got so much to talk about..."

Expression brightening, Regalia just looked around at her family, even Great-great grandma Lily and Great-great granddad James who gave her smiles and nods. All of them there for her. It nearly made her heart burst from the amount of love she could feel. Soon enough though, the group settled down to just talk and such.

 

[darthcourt10]

RCNAnon

Hello all. It's been a while for me but here's the next bit of Ron, Warspite and Duke. Given I'm slow, this is shortly before the Weasley's and company left before Harry's birthday.

------------

"That was lovely." Ron lay back with a sigh, putting a hand on his stomach as his head found a soft tuft of ground. "I think a day off was what we all needed."

Along with Warspite and Duke, he'd gone to one of the parks near Yokosuka during the afternoon for some time away from everyone else and general relaxation, given how busy they'd been doing tours and visits the rest of the time. Neatly shaded under a pair of trees, the three of them had spent the past several hours together enjoying each others company.

Warspite chuckled as she finished packing up the remains of the luncheon she'd brought for the three of them. "I thought things were going quite well for your family."

"They are but everyone needs a break from each other occasionally. Family just as much if not more than others." Ron spoke fondly of his family but with experience.

"I do understand Ron." Duke nodded as she finished off the last of her lemonade. "I love my sisters but occasionally it is good to have time away."

"Do you even know where everyone went?" Warspite settled next to Ron, one of her hands running through his hair.

"Mum and Da went shopping together but I don't know where. Percy is with Supprin, Ooyodo and Amisi. I think they were doing paperwork together but I've no bloody idea why."

"Language Ron." Duke spoke instinctively and then shook her head. "They are quite the group, especially with Miss Amisi."

"She certainly does liven things up." Warspite chuckled.

"Yeah… she's utterly smitten with Percy, otherwise I don't think it'd work out." Ron shook his head. "The others… Charlie is looking up some Japanese Dragon Tamer he'd heard about, Bill is doing some rumor snooping of his own. The twins are doing… well I don't know but I think it involved dodging Revina."

"That's another group that makes life more interesting." Duke sighed. "I can only imagine what they might get up to together if your brothers started going along with her instead of trying to run away from her."

"I don't think the world is ready for that." Ron shook his head.

"And Ginny is with her shipgirl friends, right?" Warspite queried.

"Yeah, she's with Kaylee and some others." Ron sat up and smiled at both of his companions. "Then there's the three of us."

"Yes, the three of us." Warspite smiled at Ron, then turned to Duke and tilted her head, almost as if querying her. Ron looked to Duke, who shot Warspite a look and then sighed.

"Ron… Warspite and I have a proposal for you. One involving a good deal of money."

Ron looked back to Warspite, then to Duke.

"What do you have in mind Duke? You know I trust the both of you."

Duke smiled a faint smile and then pulled out a picture from somewhere and handed it to Ron.

"We were thinking about buying a house. It's one of the vacant ones like your brother purchased. Warspite and I can get it between the two of us but we were hoping you might join in."

Ron's eyes widened at the picture of the house he was handed. It was quite large, built in an older style but well preserved with good lawns and what looked like some outbuilding to the side and rear.

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/7e/90/74/7e9074546bf31cb4b6c53fcd51fa0f02.jpg

"I… I mean sure I'd like to do that with the both of you but how much would it cost?"

"It's an old wizarding home that's been sitting empty for over a decade at this point. It's less than half what it would cost for a similar house on the open market." Warspite spoke up, scooting closer to Ron and wrapping an arm around his side. "So between the hazard pay Duke and I keep getting and the amounts I know you've been saving up we would be more than fine."

"Still..." Ron looked between the two of them and then back at the picture. "It… I don't know. It doesn't feel right somehow."

Warspite cocked an eyebrow at Duke, unseen by Ron as he focused on the picture.

"Why does it not feel right Ron?" Duke moved in close beside Ron as well, causing him to look up at her.

"I… it..." Ron felt frustrated, not quite able to express himself.

"Is it because it looks expensive?" Duke continued her query.

"Yeah… somewhat at least." Ron sighed. "I guess it looks like the sort of place I don't think I'd belong."

"Ron." Duke's voice was serious enough for him to focus on her once again, turmoil momentarily forgotten. "If you decide to join us, you would belong there because you own part of it. With money you have completely and fully earned from your own efforts. Even if you didn't you would still belong there because you are always welcome in any house I call my own. I'm sure Warspite feels the same."

Ron turned to look at Warspite, who nodded to him and graced him with a smile.

"Duke is right Ron. I know it may seem like a big step and that's because it is but you should never feel like you don't belong." She smirked a bit and leaned in closer. "Besides, it's a Royal Navy tradition for successful Admirals to have big houses. It's a sign of prosperity."

Ron couldn't help but snort at how blasé Warspite was in saying that.

"Don't you think it might be a little bit early for that?"

"Nope." Warspite smiled and tickled Ron in the sides suddenly, causing the redhead to laugh.

Duke smiled at the pair and ran a hand through Ron's hair.

"I agree with Warspite Ron. You'll be a good admiral someday. Think of this as getting ahead of the game. In a number of ways."

Ron glanced at Duke but he didn't see anything other than sincerity in her eyes and he smiled again before shaking his head.

"Alright. I'll join the both of you. All of this admiral business though… well I'm going to lean on both of you for that."

"I think you'll be doing a lot less leaning than you think Ron." Warspite said with a grin, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek.

"We shall be there to assist you as needed though. It's only right." Though she gave a quick glance around, Duke leaned in and gave Ron a kiss on the opposite cheek.

With both of them doing so within seconds of each other, Ron lit up bright red. There was certainly a great deal of weight in the belief they'd put on his shoulders but there was plenty of support as well.

"I'll do my best to live up to your expectations. Both of you."

"We know." Warspite and Duke spoke together and the trio laughed together before the conversation continued on to other topics.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Hours later, Ron was asleep in his hotel room with his face laying on a pile of blueprints. The position was familiar to him, given that he'd done so numerous times in the years prior. This was only slightly different in that the blueprints were not for Warspite but Duke, he'd been as serious in his promise to her as he had Warspite even if her hangups were not nearly as serious as the ones that had nearly crippled Warspite.

It was still a surprise for him when he was suddenly awoken with something poking him in the nose. At first he tried to ignore it, thinking it was a dream but eventually he tried to scratch his nose to make it go away. Instead he missed and got an annoyed squeak of some kind.

Blinking blearily, Ron opened eyes to see Warspite standing in front of him. Only it was Warspite shrunk down to a couple inches tall, made disgustingly cute and now she was red faced and waving her scepter at him angrily as she righted her crown.

"Am I hallucinating?" He spoke aloud, not even lifting his head off the table.

"Spite." The tiny version of Warspite shook her head in the negative.

"Are you sure?" Sleepy as he was, Ron was making sure he wasn't having a very realistic dream.

"Spite. Spite spite." The little one bonked him on the nose with her scepter again. Ron even thought of it as a bonk, there was no other good way to describe it.

"Alright alright, you're real." Finally righting his head, Ron raised himself up onto his hands as the little one nodded her head at him. "I guess that means you're like Harry's and Janes. Mini-Gato and all the other ones."

"Spite." The fairy like shipgirl nodded to him and folded her arms.

"I guess that makes you… Smol-Spite?" The words rolled off Ron's lips without much thought and he got a nod in return.

"Spite. Spite Spite Spite." Smol-Spite gestured around her to the mess of the table.

"What do you mean I should stop doing this?" Ron looked to the side to see some half finished notes.

"Spite! Spite Spite Spite Spite Spite!" Smol-Spite gestured at Ron again and managed to bonk him on the chin with a stretch.

"I did this for you too you know."

"Spite, Spite-Spite."

"I appreciate the concern but I doubt I'm going to stop anytime soon."

"Spite." Smol-Spite folded her arms and tried to look stern. She mostly just looked cute.

Ron sighed. "You know what? Fine. You can wake me up if I fall asleep and get me to go to bed."

"Spite. Spite Spite, War-Spite?"

"No, I don't think I can promise anything better than that."

"Spite."

"Yeah I know. You're stubborn too."

Smol-Spite didn't even deign to answer that, instead giving a small huff.

Ron just chuckled and reached over to the remains of his late night snack of tea and biscuits.

"Here, try this." He handed Smol-Spite part of a biscuit.

Taking it in her small not-hands, Smol-Spite took a bite, then happily began chowing down on something that was nearly as large as she was. Ron smiled, then looked back at his notes.

"Alright… lets see if I can get this done and then get some sleep."

"Spite!"

 

[darthcourt10]

Lord K

Kogamaru liked to think himself many things.

A pacifist, who preferred to avoid fighting, or any kind of action where he and his could be perceived as the aggressors. That, by both political necessity and out of his own moral and conscientious decision making, was one of the stronger aspects he liked to thing he defined himself by, and that other people perceived him through the lens of.

A fool however, was not one of those things.

For though he liked to think and hold himself to the tenants of non-violence and pacifism, Kogamaru was also not under any illusions about who he was, what those around him respected, and the many, many enemies with long memories and longer lifespans, that the Main Family of the Hokubu Okami had earned for themselves over the last century and a half. For Kogamaru, martial arts and combat prowess were as much matters of political maintenance, as they were traditional expectation for a Koshaku of the Hokubu Okami, and training for self defense that he would hopefully never need.

Even before their renown had been tainted by infamy, the clans of Yamainutaira had long prided themselves on their history of martial achievements, and the prowess those wearing the banners and kamon of it's main clans. The Hokubu and the Setto especially so. For well over three hundred years, when the northern most outpost of Japanese influence was generally considered to be Hakodate at best, Yamainutaira was an isolated bastion of Nippon culture in the middle of Ainu lands. It helped that the physical distance generally made them a magical refuge for those seeking to escape the revolving door of warlords during the Sengoku Jidai, and then a political shelter too far for the shogunate's rule to have any serious reach until the late 1700s. Yamainutiara was not on it's own per-say, but it was also far from close to any friends should conflict arise with any of it's more numerous Ainu neighbors, or militarily powerful rivals in the south and Honshu.

It was an interesting aspect created by this history of militant self-reliance, reflected Kogamaru as he stood on the sandy beach outside the Zuchi house, that still sometimes shaped how both the older and younger generations and cultures interacted in Yamainutaira.

Even today, there was still no small amount of respect among the magicals, yokai and even the muggles, which could be garnered from picking up a martial art or two, though these days, most of Kogamaru's own generation generally only took things up as a hobby. That was if they carried on practicing at all as they got older. Many who left Yamainutiara or were brought up by branch families that emigrated to the big cities in the diaspora following World War II, simply didn't have time in the hustle and bustle, commute-filled, 9-5 then socialize lifestyle of the modern muggle world, to keep up with many of the more 'traditionalist' facets of the clans.

For those born into the Main Families of Yamainutaira's noblest and most ancient houses however, expectation was still the norm, especially if one wanted to garner and maintain the respect of not only the eldest among the town's okami, but also other venerable traditionalists in the community's older wizard and yokai demographics.

Thus it was, why Kogamaru found himself absently etching a circle into the sandy beach with a toe, as he preemptively loosened up for his weekly round of training. Though he normally preferred to do so back home with his full training gear at Santsume Manor, today he feeling lazy. While his apparel for this morning was a simple uniform of white kimono top and red hakama pants that he'd found in his bag and didn't mind getting sandy, his choice of tools were anything but.

Around his neck, the obsidian beads and the white comma shaped stones of the Omotenashi no Magatama gleam with a polished shine, just as they always do, but much less regularly seen is the circular mirror-like great shield of the Kawaakari no Shinju-kyo, hovering over his left arm as if strapped in place like a normal buckler. And then at his side is the Shisashikon, the immaculate and untouched enchanted steel held in it's much less unbreakable koshirae. Rather than personalizing the Messenger's Tooth to his own tastes (as his own father did when the blade entrusted itself to the next generation upon the death of his grandfather), Kogamaru prefers the scratched and fire damaged sheath and mountings as a visible memorial and sign of dedication to his father's will, rather than any cosmetically fanciful ornamentation of his own choosing.

Slipping on his headphones and hitting play as he drops his I-pod into a pocket, a lazy tug then unties the knotted string that serves as the blade's peace-bonding. With a mighty flourish, Kogamaru then draws Shisashikon, and in a rarity for Japanese swordsmanship, takes a sword-and-board stance in the center of the sandy circle he has made. Readying himself, the wolf exhales.

Then he leaps into an admittedly flashy warm up, partly to have a little fun before getting into the more regimented portion of his training routines.

Advance! Slash! Slash! Block! Backstep to the center of the circle again- thrust from behind guard!

Shisashikon's edge glows, crackling with preemptively charged energy as he kicks off, rushing out of the circle with a spray of sand.

Charge! Shield bash! Thunder Edge at exposed target!

A crescent of magical lightning leaps off the leading edge of Kogamaru's blade, travelling off down the beach as the okami turns the momentum of the maneuver into a complete turn in place. While most would be left exposed by an over commitment to such a motion in a fight though, Kogmaru has other options. The Kawaakari no Shinju-kyo spins like a saw as it leaps from the back of his forearm, to protecting his back from any anticipated attacks of opportunity, while the black and white beads of the Omotenashi no Magatama flow from his neck to spiraling around the hand his shield just vacated.

"Tundra!"

Swiping his left hand through the air, the beads extend and unfurl outward as if all connected along an invisible bullwhip. One that leaves an icy trail in it's wake and freezes the sand it lashes upon with a loud crack, potentially stunning or immobilizing foes caught in the arc or directly snared in the line of frosty entrapment created. Something that is thus obviously meant to be capitalized upon.

"Seven Strike!"

Flames erupt along Shisashikon's edge as the okami attacks with an almost explosive burst of motion, switching to a two-handed grip to deliver a powerful sequence of flawlessly flowing slashes at blink-and-you'll-miss-it speed.

While this chain of attacks and spells for fun is probably a bit more aggressive than what might be expected from any actual fight, Kogamaru is not without any consideration for matters defense. Any opponent that could theoretically handle the onslaught of magics and technics so far, would mostly likely be one fast or durable enough to be treated with caution, and as capable of getting their own licks in as well.

Seamlessly, the reflective great shield takes it's place on his arm once more, while beads of obsidian, agate, coral and ivory spiral back up to orbiting his neck. Now returned to a sword-and-board stance once more, the surface of the Kawaakari no Shinju-kyo ripples like the waters of a disturbed pond. Were this an actual fight, the shield would now begin gathering and storing any force and energy inflicted upon it, rather than just imediately rebounding.

Block! Back-step into circle! Slash! Raise guard again! Block-into-shield-parry! Feint low thrust into upward slash! Block!

Crouching for a moment to put his full power into the motion, Kogamaru then leaps upwards, throwing himself into a flying back flip out of the circle. Through the entirety of the aerobatic manoeuvre however, the the Kawaakari no Shinju-kyo moves independently, remaining in a position that imposes itself between the leaping Okami and the direction of any theoretical assailant and incoming attacks, right up until when he lands.

When he does so, in the same smooth movement of touching down, Kogamaru then braces himself and aims the great shield's rippling surface back towards the ground he just seceded to his imaginary foe.

"Retribution!"

For a brief moment, there is a sound, like a distorted gong being struck in reverse. And then with a noise like a shotgun blast, a small burst of force is released from the Kawaakari no Shinju-kyo, eliciting a shockwave that kicks up a few bits of sand and knocks about some seaweed.

While rather unimpressive on it's own, when used properly, "Retribution" is easily one of Kogamaru's favourite techniques in the Main Family's repertoire. After all, if the shield could temporarily store up what could eventually be reflected back in one go, this allowed well timed casts and blocks to very quickly and hilariously scale up into potent attacks against stronger or multiple foes, using their own power against them. Sure, there was eventually a point where Newton's Third Law meant that inevitably one risked doing almost as much damage as if they'd just taken a hit when reflecting the accumulated magic, energy and force. And his own Great Grandfather had once broken a shoulder redirecting the force of an intercepted cannonball, proving the weakest and most breakable part of the Kawaakari no Shinju-kyo was infact it's wielders. But that didn't change the fact that as an ace-in-the-hole save-or-die technique, there were few things which were as (in the vernacular of his more uncouth friends) 'utterly bullshit' or potentially 'brokenly OP'.

Kogamaru is quick on the heels of the attack with another follow up.

Shield bash! Slash! Block! Thrust from behind high guard! Sidestep! Feint back to center! Slash! Catch opponent's guard with shield! Thrust! Backstep to center! Bait attack! Block-into-parry! Riposte!

Crouching yet again, Kogamaru then leaps backwards once more, this time on a parabola that exits the circle, as his face alights with the glowing red lines of his clan markings.

"Karmic Transformation!"

And then what lands with enough force to kick up a cloud of sand, is not the human bishonen with canid ears and tail, but a wolf. A great divine beast, almost the size of a small horse and radiating light from the glowing red lines that crisscross it's fur. On it's back, Kawaakari no Shinju-kyo the hovers, while the beads of the Omotenashi no Magatama orbit it's neck like an asteroid belt. Around the handle of the Shisashikon held in his teeth, Kogamaru growls.

"Snarling Beast!"

Immediately the Kawaakari no Shinju-kyo answers, spinning up to speed like a demented buzz saw, before then launching off of his back, the okami hot on the shield's trails to exploit any theoretical opening given. The shield scythes one way, before then reversing course, it circles around for a third strike, then flies to Kogamaru as if to block a counter-strike. Angling upwards and bashing his imaginary opponent in return, Kogamaru follows his uppercut launched for with a skyward leap. While the Kawaakari no Shinju-kyo returns to his back, Shisashikon then becomes his weapon of choice against his vulnerable and air-bound foe.

"Kusanagi!"

At his call, winds course and flow around Shisashikon, erupting with explosive cutting bursts every time they cleave through the airspace of his essentially stun-locked imaginary opponent. After a final overhead swing that theoretically turns into a pile-driver for anybody caught by it, Kogamaru slams both blade and for to the ground, before winding up with a slam that craters the ground and sends up a small explosion of sand.

Not letting up the pressure, the lithe lupine gaint leaps upward once more, putting wary distance between any foe tough enough to survive that, and pre-emptively setting the range for his next finisher. Preferring to avoid giving any prospective enemy time to take the initiative of the battle or attack while he's in the air though, the Shisashikon glows with an earthy copper radiance, while magic begins to fill the beads and magatama orbits his neck. Then with a flick of the wolf's head, Kogamaru hurls Shisashikon through the air in a flat-spin akin to some kind of bladed boomerang, even as he continues charging his next spell.

Anybody with half a brain would probably know, even on impulse to dodge the glowing sword flying through the air. What happens next, then depends on whether or not they continue to keep their focus tracking the spinning blade, or if they make the fatal mistake of disregarding it in surprise, as Kogamaru lands in an explosion of smoke that transforms him back to his white haired and human form. Around his left hand, the beads of the Omotenashi no Magatama circle anew.

His right however, is held out as if to catch something.

"Eighth Wonder!"

If his theoretical opponent had half a brain, they probably realized nobody just throws away a weapon during a fight, and kept it in mind, awaiting the triggering of whatever he was trying to set up. So assuming they didn't get skewered or diced by Shisashikon abruptly reversing course and homing in on his grasp like iron drawn to a super-magnet, that still meant they were likely pretty occupied with dodging. In the same moment he flawlessly catches the hilt of the spinning sword, Kogamaru also levels his bead encircled left hand in the direction of his imaginary foe.

"Exorcism Beads!"

Unlike before when the Omotenashi no Magatama unfurled like a single long whip, this attack is far less focused. Instead, streamers of orbs radiate of the beads, filling the air with an almost undodgeable wall of beach ball sized obsidian-colored magical projectiles. Anybody cool-headed and agile enough to dodge through that, would then have further issues as the three white magatama of the necklace completed the technique by unleashing a final trio of orbs. These unlike the rest, home in like pale missiles on their imaginary target. One who is likely already preoccupied and off balance while dodging the continued waves of black spheres.

Watching the small explosion of sand further down the beach with satisfaction, Kogamaru is just about to charge in with Shisashikon for yet another chain of attacks, when something makes him stop.

"THA- -AS -WESOM-!!!"

"What?"

Pausing in confusion and stopping his warm up to look around for whoever is trying to get his attention, the Okami then finally realizes he has an audience. Watching from some of Kiba's lawn chairs (thankfully a safe distance away) is Asuka and two of her friends.

To Kogamaru's mild amusement, for once it looks like it is Asuka who is in her element, and her friends who are slightly out of their comfort zones and frames of reference. He supposes that after the last few months and with most of his more serious business only ever carried out back home or behind closed doors, it's inevitable that Asuka would probably know him more as "that secret-dork Koga" and an older friend figure, than "Ninth Koshaku and ruler of Yamainutaira of by birthright" or "Dynastic Head of the Noble and Ancient (and infamous) Clan of the Hokubu Okami".

However, the young niece of the Ono Shrine maiden if he is not mistaken, and the young Nagato-Potter, both look somewhat uncertain about the idea of interrupting the Okami throwing around high-level magical techniques like party favors, even if they are depowered for the sake of safety when so near the house and other people. That, and Kiba would also probably get mad if everyone started putting craters in the Zuchi House's beach when training.

Remembering that particular point and the fact that he was about to begin cycling through Shisashikon's elemental techniques again, Kogamaru aborts his prepared cast by lazily pointing the blade out to sea. Lightning ripples along Shisashikon's length, before lancing off as a sphere which spirals dizzyingly through the air, a motion to throw off any who might attempt to anticipate or dodge it's course. Rather than making contact with anything however, it instead detonates in midair to produce an impressive electrical starburst. Instead of expending all of the charge in one blast though, part of the charge then radiates outward as six new smaller orbs of ball-lighting, which in turn also detonate and multiply. The process proceeds to repeat itself twice more, producing a dizzying array of expanding electrical patterns, that while only increasingly fractionally as powerful as the first orb, would still be a truly hectic experience to dodge or unpleasantly distracting to get caught by.

Seeing this, Asuka gleefully whoops and hollers again, though once more her voice is somewhat drowned out.

Politely, Kogamaru then holds up a finger to request a pause.

"Sorry, just one moment. My music-"

Pulling off his heads phones, it then becomes rather noticeable just how loud the okami has the sound up. Even from a safe distance, the three can hear the muted lyrics of whatever he has playing.

"-No allegiance!
I will swear no oath!
Crowned by god not, by the church,
As my power is divi-"

Hastily fishing his I-pod out and stopping it, Kogamaru then looks up at the three youths.

Thankfully, Asuka is still in the grips of excitable gushing.

"That was so COOL! It looked even more like damaku than the last one!"

"What?"

Looking down in confusion, it takes Kogamaru a moment to realize she is referring to the homing shotgun blast and missiles of Exorcism Beads, followed by the blanket AoE of the aborted Thunderbolt he just cast.

He suppose it does look a little bit like danmaku. Albeit, this actually is legitimately destructive and deadly combat magic and techniques he's purposely under-powering for his pre-training warm up.

Gleefully, the young daitengu takes to the wing and flies over to him curiously. "Hey, you wouldn't have anything thing that looks like any of Inubashiri Momiji's spell cards would you?"

Kogamaru actually has to pause at the hilarity of that question. Shisashikon, Kawaakari no Shinju-kyo, and the Omotenashi no Magatama are artifacts, relics and treasures of a time when gods and spirits still walked the earth. Through the force of his inherited arms, and the respect and renown they brought to the station they came to represent, wars had been won, blood shed, and the laws of his forefathers laid down.

And Asuka is asking him if he could use them to make danmaku?

The okami can't help but chuckle. "Why Momiji?"

"Well..." Asuka trails off with awkwardly sheepish embarrassment. "You are dressed a bit like her aren't you?"

Kogamaru looks down at his ratty red hakama and then his old, slightly-off-white-from-age kimono top. For a moment, the okami is silent as he mulls the idea over in his head.

Without a doubt, there two overriding thoughts that come to his mind. The first is how hilarious his father probably would've found the idea. The second is just how much his grandfather would have reviled the notion of using such venerated relics of the Hokubu for something so childishly trivial.

With an intrigued grin, Kogamaru draws Shisashikon through the air, leaving behind a red trail of floating spheres of fire, while white orbs of frost begin to radiate off of the Omotenashi no Magatama as they orbit around him. Inspecting them for a moment, the okami nods happily.

"I do believe I can work with this."

---------------


"Oi!" Shouts Jin angrily as she bats away a fiery orb that burns without heat, as it draws near where she is sitting against the speakers dragged out onto the deck. "Watch out for the speakers you little fu- brat!"

Heedless of the mizuchi, Kogamaru cackles as he sends another set of spiraling waves of red and blue at the three youths on the beach with him. While Natsumi dodges and dances between slow moving orbs on the ground in one of her spare Miko uniforms, Asuka darts and dives through the air with an innate swiftness inherent to a yokai of the air. Dressed up in a pleated black skirt borrowed from the Kitsune, and wearing a magically-resized dress shirt along with a red-pom'd hat of Ai's, in her hands the Daitengu also carries her Saburo kamon inscribed fan, and an old Polaroid camera they borrowed from Kiba. The only one of the three who isn't happy about their current state of apparel is Harry, who expresses as much, as he jinks his broom to the left, and narrowly avoids loosing his enlarged-to-oversize wizard hat to the (currently now sheathed and peace-bonded once more) Shisashikon as it cleaves a boomerang course through the air.

"Why do I have to be a gender-bent Marisa?!" he complains loudly, narrowly avoiding the Koshaku's blade as it clips at the edges of his school robes on it's return path to Kogamaru's hand. "Why couldn't I be Sakuya?!"

"Oh I don't know," considers Natsumi as she dodges yet another wave of psuedo-danmaku. "Maybe it's because you're the only human of us three? You're the wizard, and thus by default, already the gender-opposite of a witch? Your family has a history of 'borrowing' things other people no longer need?"

"It's called 'acquiring', poi!"

Before Natsumi can initiate a rebuttal, she then catches a glimpse of lightning arching along Shisashikon's length, followed by it abruptly lancing off and striking at the four corners of their unofficial field. Slowly, the expanding pattern of resulting Thunderbolts begins to hem them in, even as Kogamaru levels an Omotenashi no Magatama encircled hand and starts filling the center of the field with radiating spirals of blue as well. All too quickly, the trio begin to run out of space.

"Asuka! Camera!"

"O-On it!" answers the daitengu with thrilled gusto, as she points the Polaroid camera in the okami's direction. With a flash of photographic light, Kogamaru laughs as he correspondingly dismisses all his current 'danmaku' on the field, which have been 'bombed' by Asuka's 'spellcard'. Distracted as he is by cancelling all his magical techniques though, for a brief moment, Kogamaru forgets about the one physical object he has in play.

Without a call to return to it's wielder's hand, the spinning sword and sheath pass beyond the boundaries of the 'arena', leave the beach itself, and very narrowly almost reach the house. They don't though, due to one issue. With a painful sounding wallop, the Shisashikon smacks Jin directly in the face, practically flipping her over.

"MOTHERFUCKER!"

Angrily sitting upright, the Mizuchi glowers as the unbidden tears of pain and the already healing bruise on her forehead, is swiftly replaced with spreading patterns of white scale and black sludge that seeps from her eyes and nose.

"Okay. THAT TEARS IT!"

---------------

So engrossed are they in the faux-danmaku duel, that first sign for those on the beach that something is happening, is when Shiashikon abruptly beans Kogamaru in the face in return. As the stunned okami tries to process that someone has just thrown his own sword at him, a bullet of water jets out of the nearby surfs and engulfs him, comically sending the wolf flying out of the arena.

Turning back in the direction from which it came, the three teens then watch as a monochromatic form rises out of the surf, dripping with both (currently harmless) black mud and crystal clear sea water. Emphasizing the duality vibe, a pair of liquid dragons appear, circling around Jin's water-clone, and coiling through the around air as one becomes freshly pristine and the other darkly murky. A pair of draconic Yin-Yang. Holding out an almost Abyssal-pale hand, spheres of white and black water begin gathering in the air above the clone, while beside the speakers, the real Jin starts scrolling through the song list.

"Mid-Boss over!" With a thrill of anticipation, the three teens realize what is happening, and ready themselves for what is to come.


"It's time for a real fucking Stage Boss!"

Throwing her arms open, the dragon and her dragons descend. Taking to the field, a veritable tidal wave follows forth from the mizuchi's hands, as spheres of white and black begin crashing down upon the beach in fanciful geometric displays.

Some overlap in complex patterns that vaguely remind Harry of ancient runes and Norse-Celtic knots.

Others become rapidly morphing motifs that Natsumi only just manages to guide the others through, upon realizing their similarity to a repeating series of shinto-buddhist patterns and mandalas that are being cycled through, one after the other.

And then the most complex of all, is what Asuka eventually realizes is a danmaku representation of a radial engine which, has them literally running in circles to the mizuchi's entertainment.

Just as they think they have the mizuchi's tricks down and figured out however, then comes the next round of 'spellcards'.

---------------


Sarutobi laughs as he takes the field when the mizuchi impulsively challenges him to do better against the surprisingly tenacious teens.

"Well, let's see then!" With a thunderous chortle, he touches down in the arena with an impact that squashes Jin's water-clone like a bug. With his jacket and shoes off, and his sleeves and trousers rolled up, the sarugami loosely falls into a stance that shows investment work and age have done little against the ex-Dreadnought Destroyer of Dewa's scarred physique, which once carried him to becoming the underground fighting ring champion of Japan. "I hope you kids are ready!"

"Whenever you are!" Normally, Natsumi would be leery of getting into a fight with a guy who was secretly something of a childhood hero of hers, even before the fact that his claim to fame was for literally knocking the teeth out people as far up the scale as middle-tier kami such as dragons. But the fact that Asuka had some how gotten them into friendly magical duels with an Okami, and then a Fallen-Mizuchi, with no ill fortune at all, had emboldened her somewhat. This was proving fun, and surprisingly good training for dodging and combat awareness, especially for her. Harry and Asuka had the luxury of movement in three dimensions, but she was limited to the ground where the sand made for uncertain footing depending on how close to the surf she was, and pusedo-danmaku could come from pretty much any direction if she wasn't observant.

Bullet-hell combat was rapidly proving to be rather, dare she say it, hellish when you didn't have a third person view of what was going on across the entire filed.

Seeing the trio's excitement and confidence, the grey-haired monkey-yokai gives a bark of laughter and friendly challenging grin. "HA! Unlike the others, I know what I'm doing. My grandaughters make me 'play Touhou in real life' with them all the time!"

Faintly, Natsumi feels a mild sense of worry that her boastful confidence in her growing ability, may be about to receive a reality check.

Slowly, the air around the retired pit fighter turned investment risk assessor, begins to not just ripple, but outright glow with chi. Such a visible output would be impressive for a sarugami in their prime, but even at his age, Sarutobi displays not just power, but control as well, as orbs of chi begin to individually break off and drift into a growing pattern around him.

"Dreadnought Sign! Insurmountable Will, Insurmountable Wall!"

"Oh shi-"

Natsumi doesn't even have time to complete the curse.

Dodge! Duck! Jump! Weave! Side ste- OH SHIT NOT THAT WAY! Leap for the gap! Roll! Back to feet! Dodge!'

Natsumi feels the hair of her tail stand on end, as the air tingles with magical build up and grains of sand from the mild chunky-updraft taking place.

"Destroyer Sign! Fists of Dewa!"

Oh shit, Dodge!

"Dodge!" shouts Natsumi as a slowly growing number of fist-shaped Chi-blasts begin chasing the three at a speed just above brisk-walking pace every time the grinning Sarugami punches the air.

"Thank you captain obvious!" shouts Harry as his slaloming flight path takes him past, pursued by his own set of four glowing monkey-fists.

The lazy output and speed wouldn't be actually be all that much of a problem, if it wasn't for the fact that the beach was still filled with Sarutobi's previous spellcard's lingering psuedo-danmaku.

"Dreadnought Sign! Do No Evil!"

"Oh come on, the first one's only just finished!"

"Doooodge!"

---------------

"You know...." considers Kiba thoughtfully as they watch from the house. "Sarutobi's good at this, just 'cause his grandkids want to play with him all the time, and the big lug can't ever say no."

Absently, the okuri-inu then looks over at Ai. "But for localized fine control over small objects, I don't think anybody here can actually beat you."

Turning to look at the dog-yokai, the kotengu raises an eyebrow.

Kiba then jokingly makes his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes.

Ai just rolls hers in return.

---------------

Asuka flops onto the sandy ground tiredly.

"Victory!" she proclaims, before then letting her hands drop back to her sides loosely.

While arguably having had it easier than the other two thanks to his broom, Harry is also beginning to look rather worn out as well.

"Yeah. I think we've made enough progression for today too," the young wizard jokingly quips. "What about you Natsumi?"

Panting and out of breath, the Kitsune miko jokingly does her best to look composed, and not like she wants to join Asuka in the sand by face-planting.

"I don't know what you two- ooof- are on about. -oh boy- I still feel up to another round." She declares boastfully.

"Then how would one feel toward the possibility of an EX-Boss?" asks a voice behind the trio.

Leaping to her feet, Asuka looks up in excited shock. "Ai?"

Hovering above them with her rarely seen wings spread wide, the kotengu floats in the air, Shakujo and fan in either hand, and 'dressed 'in an illusionary version of her traditional Hatamoto regalia. The older tengu smiles.

"If a greater challenge of skill is what you wish, I can more than provide."

Having just been made to eat her overconfidence against Sarutobi, Natsumi is mildly less keen to throw herself against the skills of a magic user who is not just powerful enough to flood the field with danmaku, but enough of a master to create some truly terrifying and frustrating patterns with all that strength. And if there is one thing she has heard about Saburo no Ai's skills, it's that what the older woman lacks for raw power and exotic techniques, she more than makes up for with mastery of her basics and ingenuity. Her F-15J(s) and magic enhanced piloting is more than enough evidence of that.

Inquisitively, she looks to Harry, wanting to see what his opinion is of continuing. Sure, he's less tired than her or Asuka, and might be willing to go on, but if neither of them felt up to it, then he'd probably say n-

"If Natsumi's up for another round, then I'm up for it as well!"

That wasn't Harry.

Looking around in confusion, Natsumi then realizes that the wavering but determined declaration has in fact come from Asuka. Oddly enough, the teenage Daitengu almost looks as though she is just as surprised and baffled by what she herself has just declared as well.

"Well if Natsumi and Asuka are both up for it-" In shock, Natsumo's head now swivels in the other direction to Harry. "-then I am too!"

'What? NO! You traitors! I was just boasting, and now I-'

Internally, Natsumi screams as she looks up at the hovering kotengu.

For a brief moment, some logical part of her ponders whether or not she should admit that actually, she really is rather a little pooped after all the running she's been doing.

That part is then swiftly taken out back to the mental alley between two mental buildings, by the slightly less logical parts of her named Want-To-Be-Cool-In-Front-Of-Asuka and Must-Impress-Harry.

"It's decided then!" She declares with a challenging finger at Ai. "It's on EX-Ai! Do your worst!"

The Kotengu laughs demurely and smiles with anticipation. "Very well then. Let us see if you can out last the storm these crow's wings beat."

"I'm sure well be able to dance through them to the tune of Wind God Girl," boasts with a casual confidence she certainly doesn't feel.

Ai mean while, shakes her head. "Not that one unfortunately."

Curious, Harry raises an eyebrow. "Oh, so a Mysterious Mountain cover then?"

"No."

"Tengu is Watching?" asks Asuka in turn.

"No."

Natsumi feels her interest peaked at the fact that they are quickly narrowing down the list of low-hanging fruit Touhou themes. "Sleepless Night of The Eastern Country?"

"No."

Then kitsune miko tilts her head in baffled confusion. "Then what then?"

With a soft smile that does not promise anything at all soft, Ai gestures at the speaker system on the deck and flicks a finger, causing a small burst of air to gently depress the play button on the remote.


Natsume pales.

"Oh shit!"

Ai swipes her shakujo through the air, causing visibly rippling spheres of air and vapor filled distortions to form, before they then begin to drift outward at her command. As they do however, new spheres begin to form around the initial ones spawned, which then in turn gain their own aerokinetic satellites. Very rapidly, Natsumi realizes they are in for a level of complexity and pattern combinations, unrivaled by anyone else they have faced so far.

"Oh great!" yells Harry as he ducks and weaves past spheres spawning spheres, that further the chaotically shrinking space in the field. "Her danmaku has it's own danmaku!"

"Don't worry!" shouts Asuka. "I- wait- I can feel what she's doing! It's not so bad for me, so maybe if I help you guys- DUCK!"

Immediately both of them hit the deck, thankful for whatever sign the daitengu has recognized, as abruptly all of Ai's current psudo-danmaku in play split in half. While now halved in size compared to the originals, 50% of the news spheres continue on their original tracks, while the remaining 50% now complicate matters by reversing the paths and spawn patterns they just took. On the one hand, this means the number of air-spheres on the field is slowly shrinking, but on the other, it is likely because Ai is preparing to flood the field with something equally complicated, only clearing space out of fairness.

"Well," offers Natsumi as she narrowly avoids getting caught between two air-spheres as they orbit past her with the Kitsune almost in the middle of their tracks, "At least it's just her, so it can't get much worse than this."

"Ex-Boyfriend! Nakano Kiba!"

The teens aren't the only ones shocked by the 'spell card' which Ai doesn't actually call out, and herself nearly spit-takes in response to. All heads swivel to the edge of the field, and just in time too.

"DODGE!" shouts Natsumi, narrowly avoiding the writhing mass of darkness and shadows that barrels through their position, like a vaguely lupine-shape doing it's best impression of Sonic the Hedghog. Sending up a spray of sand as it rushes past them and then skids to a halt at the opposite border of the arena, the smoke-shrouded, umbral canid mass, then launches itself into another rolling cannonball run. In wild pursuit, it tears across the beach, radiating streamers of shadow-stuff as it misses Natsumi by a mile thanks to it's uncontrollable speed, only to stop at the border again, and this time fling itself skyward at Asuka.

With a shriek, the daitengu easily jinks away, only to then narrowly avoid running into a air-sphere from Ai. Harry then finds himself the next target, and while he barrel rolls away from the okuri-inu's amorphous true form and the ongoing air-sphere pattern, he also very nearly ends up tagged by a streamer of shadow-stuff instead.

"Damnit, this is the 'Shikigami: Ran Yakumo' spellcard isn't it?" he asks with mild rhetorical annoyance.

"Well look on the bright side," offers Natsumi as she sidesteps another wave of danmaku, and then ducks to avoid the flying ball of shadows and vaguely dog-like features that can be glimpsed within the hard to see darkness. "At least there's no Chen!"

"Look out!" screams Asuka.

"Okami! Hokubu no Kogamaru!"

As something big, white, covered in glowing red lines, and even more wolf-like than Kiba, races past while leaving frosty trails of radiating white beads in it's path and joins the okuri-inu in madly rocketing around the arena, Harry turns to Natsumi.

"Thank you so much for that."

"I'm sorry!!!"

---------------

Watching the goings on from a magically concealed boat out on the bay to the south of Zuchi, Mary can't help but shake her head.

So much power on display. So much skill.

And they're using it all to play a game with children.

Then again, she reflects. Is that not, in some way, something worth striving for? To one day no longer need not just one's sword, or even the plowshare, but to simply desire tools to entertain and teach one's children? Still, she may have been guilty herself, of coming up with some pretty frivolous uses and tricks for her skills in various magics she mastered or showed an affinity for over the years, but she never did anything as silly as performing her 'knife game' with Molly.

"So cool....." Turning to the side, Mary then raises an eyebrow at Kisei beside her, causing the younger woman to blush. "Sorry. It's just.... that is pretty neat, you have to admit. I wish I could do something like that."

For a moment, Mary considers some of the more choice spells she knows. A number of her Lightning and Ice related AoEs come to mind.

And Swordsman did ask Mary if she could show the younger agent a few things.

Then again, Howard had probably meant that more along the lines of 'teach my protege how to watch things and be an infiltrator of your caliber', and not 'show her some of the things that earned you your infamy as a terrifying combat juggernaut, when overcompensating for the absence of David's teamwork'.

"If you wished, I could probably share with you a spell or two."

Kisei looks up at her, with rapt attention and awe at what one of her personal idols has just offered.

"Really?!"

"It wouldn't be as.... all consuming or complex as those. But as a properly viable area of effect combat spell-"

"Oh please! That would be amazing! Anything you know would be unbelievable to learn, even if it's no where near as flashy as that for the sake of being actually practical!"

Seeing the eagerness of the novice agent, Mary can't help but chuckle. Kisei's one sin may be the eagerness of youth, but at least in the past few months Mary's increasingly interacted with the young woman during her meetings with Swordsman, she's proved to have a good head about her.

In a job that's involved months of fishing through and reporting on other peoples' and various groups' incompetencies, insufficiencies and misfortunes, it is a pleasant breath of fresh air to work with a youth such as Kisei. Someone filled with the energy of eagerness and excitement, rather than the perpetuated motions of worn self-motivation or adherent personal code, weighed down by the gravity the work or double meanings of the past.

It also helps that Kisei doesn't seem to be one for accidents and mistakes.

---------------

Kicking open the door to the bathroom of their dormitory shared, Delaware stares at what she's found.

Looking back up at her miserably, from where she has been praying to the porcelain altar, is an almost mirror image of the blonde and buxom BB-28. Gazing at her twin with resigned helplessness for one long moment, North Dakota chokes and then returns to dry-heaving. For a brief second, Delaware almost instinctively moves to help her sister, and attempts to help a BB-29 by holding back her hair.

Then Delaware's own flawlessly pale complexion turns a rather worrying shade of green, and with her twin already hogging the toilet, the eldest of the two sisters has no choice but to resort to the the sink.

Attracted by the sounds of tandem vomiting, their roommates, the Florida sisters, approach with both disgust and worry.

"Okay, I am not cleaning that up if it backs up the sink," declares the leadship of the two as she facepalms.

"Oh sush you!" Snaps Utah at her sister, even as both of them move to help the two battleships anyway. After all, it's practically an unwritten rule that those too old to stand in the line of battle against the more 'modern' classes of Abyssal have to look out for one another. It also helped that there were enough similarities between the two classes, that they were basically half sisters.

---------------

"Okay," says Utah, nervous about announcing the conclusion she has reached over breakfast. "Here's what I think might be going on with you two."

Delaware looks up from her bacon and eggs curiously, while North Dakota pauses in the construction of the sandwich she has been building. Taking a deep breath, Utah decides to break the news as gently, yet plainly as she can.

"I think the two of you are pregnant."

There is an equally pregnant pause at that statement.

"Bullshit," declares Delaware.

"Yeah!" echoes her twin, sounding mildly offended. "Now what on earth is your evidence for that?"

Utah sighs, while Florida facepalms.

"Are you two that dense, or just in denial?" Asks the less mom-boaty of the two, causing Utah to yet again question if 10 years of service really could make that much difference in a shipgirl's maturity. "You two went to Vegas. You got blackout drunk in Vegas. You apparently had a blackout drunk two-night stand in Vegas. And now you've both been getting sick every morning for the last two weeks, and you're wondering what it is!?"

Both of the Delaware twins shift with an awkwardness, that also betrays mild amounts of shame, and maybe even fear.

"Maybe....it's just the flu?" hypothesizes North Dakota weakly.

Her sister nods. "O-Or lupus? It's always lupus in the shows isn't it?"

Florida facepalms, adding to the increasingly red mark on her forehead.

"And what about that NoDak?!" asks BB-30 as she points at the younger twin's plate in disgust. "What the actual fuck are you even eating?"

All eyes turn to the banana, chocolate ice-cream, hot-sauce and pickles sandwich the battleship is assembling between two slices of toast.

"I don't know...." North Dakota answers defensively. "I just wanted.... experiment okay? I felt like having something different, you know?"

Florida at least manages to refrain from pointing out that experimenting is what got the other battleship into her current mess, and instead begins quietly hammering her head on the table, causing the cutlery to shake while Delaware looks to be increasingly grasping at straws.

"Look, we... we can't be pregnant," counters the elder of the two twins weakly.

"Why?" asks Utah gently, as if dealing with destroyers trying to learn the ropes of AA and targeting all over again now that they were shipgirls.

"B-Because... Because..."

Finally, it is North Dakota who answers with red-faced embarrassment. "Because our.... our lover was a woman...."

"Gale." counters Florida between head-bumps on the table.

"Try." *thump* "A-" *thump* "-gain" *thump*

Utah rolls her eyes at her sister's dramatics which aren't helping matters. "Look, there's nothing to be worried about if it's the reaction that concerns you. People just don't really seem to care about that sort of thing between women, as they would have in our time."

"But even if it were true, that would still mean..." North Dakota's lip trembles. "If we were pregnant, then then children would be-" She hesitates to use the dreaded word. "Out of wedlock."

"You." *thump* "Mean." *thump* "Bastards?" *thump*

Utah pinches the bridge of her nose, while North Dakota's eyes threaten to tear up.

"Welcome to the modern world and it's modern sensibilities. You've been here how many years already haven't you?" asks Florida into the table. "Nobody caaaaaaaaares."

"Th-That's if we even are pregnant to begin with!" counters Delaware, with still hotly defiant resistance to mask her fear of the possibility.

"Well then," says Utah diplomatically. "Isn't it lucky I have just the thing to definitively put the question to bed once and for all."

Pulling a pair of boxes out of her pocket, Florida glances ups from the table, and then sits upright to stare at her agog. "Where did you get those?!" she asks with pointed incredulity at the pregnancy tests.

"Ask me no questions, and I will tell you no lies," is Utah's prim response.

"You know, if you had just told me you just brought those from the commissary because you suspected, I would have believed you, but that just raises more questions!"

"Oh hush yourself," answers the training ship with a mildly offended frown at the notion she brought them for herself. "I got them for someone else, okay? And no, I will not be telling you who it was."

"It was for Reprisal wasn't it? Please tell me it was, I'll laugh my tits off."

As the two Florida sisters argue back and forth with one another, the Delaware twins look at each other with fearful uncertainty, before quietly taking each other's hands and nodding.

---------------

The dichotomy between the two sisters is obvious in how they wait. Utah stands outside the bathroom door, awaiting with anxious poise and mature nerves for their older half-sisters to exit. Florida meanwhile, stalks back and forth across the floor of their dorm while they wait the news, like an agitated big cat.

Finally the door opens, revealing the unreadable expressions the twins.

"So...." asks Florida with a rolling gesture of the hands to speak.

Utah just tilts her head curiously and nods. "It's okay. We won't judge."

For a long moment, there is silence.

Then North Dakota bursts into tears.

Delaware at least, manages to remain stony-faced, even if the facade is obviously a weak one for how terrified she is. "I think your pee-stick things are broken."

Utah can only sigh, while Florida unhelpfully rants into her ensuing double facepalm.

"I can't believe you two!!! You didn't even have to worry about anyone pulling out, and you still manged to fuck up not getting fucked up!!!!"

 

[darthcourt10]

K9Thefirst1

A Few Days Later...


Rhode Island had finished her drills for the day, and was climbing out of the river. Everyday she was improving, and just that day they received orders that Rhodie was to transver to open water training on Lake Michigan at a to-be-determined area in Wisconsin.

"Well done you two," South Carolina said, affectionately rubbing Rex's head. But before the conversation could continue, SoCar's cellphone went off in her pocket. South Carolina pulled it out and looked at the Caller ID. It was her oldest daughter…

"Delaware! Hi there sugah! …Koda? What's wrong baby?"

Rhode Island looked on in concern at hearing Ma's pet name for North Dakota, Delaware's twin sister. She patted South Carolina on the shoulder, but Ma only responded with a finger to her lips.

"What d'ya mean she's sick? Y'all ain't soundin' much better yerself sugah… Uh huh… That Vegas trip, right- Oh… Oh honey... Y'sure it's th' both of y'all Baby? …Well, after that many test's I'd be convinced too."

"Mama?"

South Carolina pulled her ear back from the receiver, and even from her distance Rhodie could distinctly hear North Dakota's voice, weeping and begging South Carolina's forgiveness, as if she were a toddler that broke Mama's favorite vase. SoCar turned to Rhodie, a mix of exasperation and worry on her face.

"Rhodie, baby, do Mama a favor: don't lift yer skirt 'till after ya say 'I Do.' It'll save y'all an' me a whole heap o' bother."

The converted Re-Class looked at the battleship in confusion… When the penny dropped, and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline and her mouth went up in a tiny 'o.'

"Y-yes Mama!"

That got her a nod of thanks from South Carolina as she put the phone back to her ear, North Dakota having finally calmed down.

"Ba- Baby, calm down, put yer sister on, I ain't talking through relays an' I ain't repeatin' myself… 'Kay, that both of y'all? Good... Now. Girls? It's jus' like I tol'ja both – Las Vegas is a City of Sin, an' I told'ja both never t'go within a hun'red miles of th' place, an' I tol'ja both that the best way to keep this kinda stuff from happenin' is if ya keep yer viginities 'till yer married, don' matter how 'careful' ya think y'are.

"But y'all know what? Yer still my babies. An' I still love th' both of y'all. So don' y'all worry none. Jus' talk with yer superiors, and we'll get y'all situated, all right? An' don't y'all worry none about birthin' no bastards. We'll find this feller that- Beg pardon? It… It was… A woman…?"

There was a long pause in the room, and South Carolina slowly pulled the phone away from her ear, staring dead ahead with a hundred-yard stare for a moment before looking down at the phone.

Rhodie's face was scrunched up in confusion at that. "Um, I don' think that's how it's s'possed t' work."

SoCar sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Frankly, if it weren't fer the Washington and Gale I would be jus' as confused."

"Who?"

SoCar looked to Rhode Island with a cocked eyebrow before shrugging. "Ours is a large family, so I ain't surprised y'ain't been told. But still, this right here still registers as a 9.1 on the Bullshit-o-meter."

The battleship shook her head and put the phone back to her ear.

"Fine! We'll find this girl an' we'll make this right. Fer right now? I want th' two of y'all to relax and get comfy, y'hear? After all, now yer lives ain't jus' yer own. And… Well… I admit I'm getting' excited 'bout spoilin' me some gran'babies!"

The battleship said her goodbyes, air-kissed the phone and hung up. Then she sent a glare to Rhode Island.

"Rhodie. Git Mama's shotgun. We got ourselves a weddin' t' plan."





------

OOH! I knew I forgot something! Kogamaru has excellent taste in exercise music! Though he might get uncomfortable that Porta Atlantia also likes the songs, it's themes of Autocracy if nothing else.

Harry Leferts said:
That is an amusing image to be honest, though the bolded I think is one of the issues because I, myself like everyone else assumed that she had made them herself as we did not find out where they came from when mentioned. Though I do wonder what OLD thought of them or how Gateway had them scrapped considering her thoughts on Merchant ships...​

OLD is actually chill about it. They were all getting old, and ever since the retreat from the Azores they had been left in mothballs, likely used as a source of spare parts, and so they all needed work if they were to be used at all. And even if that wasn't an issue, the Wok-Class are newer and better. Remember, for ships the breaker's yard is the closest thing ships have to a "natural" death.

It's when Merchant ships are killed in the fighting of Warships' wars that she gets... Irritated.

Hmm... I wonder if she is going to try and look at reports and the like, such as newspapers and magazines, describing what happened in the Aleutians under Hoppou? As well as what has happened with Wanko. If nothing else it would give her another data point.​

I would find it very OOC of her to have not at the least checked for anyone else doing the same. But I can see her not noticing the (relatively) few articles talking about Unalaska and Timor when there was an overwhelming tsunami of DEATH! MURDER! RAIDING AND PILLAGING! Hence her surprise. But after the Pacific Treaties were signed, and she has names and specific locations to backtrack from? Oh yes she is no doubt eating up that info like Warren Buffet buying up shares after a crash in the stock market.

Porta: *reads about Hoppo's actions* FINALLY! Someone who's not only not an idiot, but had the chance to capitalize on it!

And when she learns that Hoppo is also an EP? Expect tears of joy at finally having a family member who also has the Divine Right to Rule who gets it. Followed by hugs.

No worries, its just that we haven't actually seen much of what her fleet has been doing outside of Reivana actually does outside of training and such. Mostly, we've seen them standing around and sort of milling in place.​

I'll see if I can't put together a snippet covering the subject. I've been meaning to set up a character to do the National Chronicle, so that's literature down. And someone had to design and build the new palace, same with that mural, so that's Architecture and Visual Art... Hmm... That Rocking Metal Wo can cover music, but it's not really... Hmmmm… And I still want to do a Wallace and Gromit pair of expies so that's food just by dint of CHEEEESE. And the MacHamish Clan by S0ngd0g cover the almighty Booze... Hmmm....

Well... Kebechet/Kabechet's mother is Anput, who's name is the female version of "Anubis" and sometimes shown with a Jackel's head for her own. Granted, one does need to remember that most of the Egyptian gods were related, as in brother and sister marrying or mother and son... and I think father and daughter in one case.​

Do note that you are not disproving my statement. That sounds very likely to be the plot of an Off Brand Anime.

 

[darthcourt10]

RBomber

Harrysowl said:
Ok I get being in denial about being pregnant, but I would have thought that the fact that no shipgirl can forget their contraceptive would have circulated by now... all though I believe this is only the second? and third? (I may or may not be off by one) cases we've seen so far.​

Well, the story most likely goes like this:

****

In Vegas, everyone had the hell of the time of their life. Casino! Cabaret! Drinks! Slot machine! Neon advertisement! That's including Delaware and North Dakota's crews.

Except Ship Chaplain and some other more... traditionally oriented shipmens, who decided to lock themselves in engine room and just waiting the whole thing to cool off, where they all would ruefully regret these stuff the next day.

Ones can only hope. And wait.

Of course, then someone relays on intercom that Delaware, as well as North Dakota, had stripping off while the boiler starts sounding funny. The more sober shipmens, including The Chaplain, start scouring the ships and prepared for any unwanted- scratch that, every boarding attempt, ever. She maybe stupid drink, but the girls is ours.

So, of course, when no boarding attempt happened, all the crew rejoice, and both Chaplain and Medical Officer decided that cooling off in Cochytus maybe not a bad idea.

Naturally, nobody observes the small, almost imperceptible wisps that suffuse the ship, and decided to settle down in one of the unused cargo room.

****

[1 weeks later]

The whole ship was in roar. One of the cargo room had been... transformed, for lack of better word, into... something. When the Captain found out, he immediately asked the cargo to be cleaned and returned to its previous uses.

The shipmen in charge brought him a cute fairy instead, clearly unable to bring his heart to execute his Captain command. And, surprise, surprise, not the even this old, curmudgeon, a bit patriarchal Delawarean of a captain can bring himself to just toss out this small stowaways of little girls.

Of course, two weeks later, the Medical Officer and the Chaplain returned both on duty, and both immediately trying to file medical leave by deliberately hurting their head.

*****

"Hey?" (Captain?)

"Hey." (Yes, I heard you.)

"Hey? Hey?" (What we should do? About this... stowaways?)

"Hey?" (You have any idea?)

"Hey. Hey. Hey-" (Well, I mean, it hadn't been that long. It hadn't change internal structure that much. A bit cutting torch here-)

That's when this young engineer suddenly get stared by every other ship crew in vicinity. Stared really hard.

Wisely, he gone quiet.

"Hey. Hey." (This is final. We won't break any other Commandment today.)

"Hey." (Yes Sir.)

*****

This is what moat likely happened in their hull.

 

[darthcourt10]

Savato93

"All systems operational."

Hoppou's words were quiet, almost a whisper. But the moment they left her lips, there was a newfound energy in the air of the chamber. After days of constant work, the moment of truth was at hand. All eyes were now on the two Princesses in the center of the chamber… and what lay between them.

Sitting in the dock was a battlecarrier reborn.

Countless measurements and corrections left her every angle and contour accurate to the millimeter. The hull was smooth and pristine, unmarred by neither war nor the elements. Nothing was out of place. And most importantly… her keel was straight and true.

She was arguably one of the finest specimens of her class that many of them had ever seen… but she was not yet complete.

She needed life.

Slowly, Hoppou turned to her daughter. For three days, seventeen hours, and twenty-nine minutes, Tanith had stood vigilant over her daughter's heart, daring the world to threaten it in any way. "Tanith?"

The young Princess understood. Rising to her feet, the emerald orb still cradled to her chest, she approached her mother. She came to a stop before Hoppou, and let her mother claim the invaluable treasure from her hands.

As Tanith stepped away, Hoppou examined the orb. Its green glow was healthy and vibrant—the soul within, at ease. But now, something was different about it. Looking carefully, Hoppou could see new colors periodically rising to the surface… tiny wisps of crimson and cyan and gold and white, and many others. It was like a tiny aurora, encapsulated in the palm of her hand.

Breathtaking.

Kneeling beside the Re-class, Hoppou removed her mitten once more. She took the orb in her bare hand and pressed it gently into the Re-class's chest. There was no brilliant light this time—just a soft glow, as the empty shell was given a heart, an identity. After several seconds, the glow faded and Hoppou removed her hand.

Regalia was whole once more.

"Your body was once a cage... but no longer."

Hoppou gave her workers the final order: fire up the boilers.

"Be free."

XXXXXXXXXX

There it was.

That soft thrum, that physical warmth in her chest that she didn't even realize was missing.

Her boilers. She could feel her boilers again.

Regalia glanced down, holding a hand to her chest. In front of her, a Ta-class tilted her head, a small frown on her face. "Is something wrong?"

"I… I think I'm waking up," Regalia said simply.

There were small sounds of disappointment from the numerous Abyssals around her. Looking back, Lily raised a hand. "Now, girls, I know you all would like for Regalia to stick around a little longer, but the rest of your family is waiting for her back home. Don't you think that would be rather rude to them?"

Regalia could feel more of her boilers coming online—and beyond that, a strong tugging sensation in the core of her being. She knew she was being called back to the waking world, and she didn't quite have a say in the matter. She looked back up to her departed family, who were beginning to wave goodbye to her with sad smiles. "Uh… do you think I'll see any of you again?"

A Ru-class shrugged. "Maybe. Perhaps, if you have a refit at some point in the future, we could meet up again. But outside of that…" She grinned playfully as she stepped forward and pulled her niece into a hug. "We don't want to see you back here for a long, LONG time. Got that?"

Regalia chuckled softly as she returned the hug. "Yes, ma'am." Stepping back, she looked over the crowd. "Will I remember any of this?"

"Some of it, probably. Likely not everything, but…" The Ru-class shook her head. "As long as you remember that we're rooting for you, we're satisfied with that."

Regalia nodded solemnly. "Well, then…" she said. "I guess that means this is goodbye… for now, at least…" She waved to her departed family one last time a she began to let herself be pulled back to reality—

"Wait, wait!"

A Ta-class nudged her way through the crowd to stand in front of the Re-class. "While you're still here, can you do just one thing for us?"

"Uh… sure…" Regalia gasped as she felt another tug, even stronger than before. "B-but, is it gonna take long? What is it?"

"We want you to pass on a message to Mother."

XXXXXXXXXX

She opened her eyes.

Her mother and grandmother were leaning over her, gazing down at her with concerned expressions. Both of them looked exhausted, with drooping postures and bags under their eyes. "Are… are you alright, Regalia?" Her mother asked.

"...Mom? Grandma?" Her voice was small and weak.

"Is Regalia okay?" Hoppou asked. "Anything feel wrong, or out of place?"

Regalia tried to look inward, get a confirmation from her crew—but this was not the defective ship they spent over three years learning to work with. This was a state-of-the-art vessel, hand-crafted to near perfection. They were as clueless as she was. "I… I don't know," she answered.

Tanith's eyebrows furrowed. "Perhaps we should… get you up and moving. See how that goes."

"No…" Hoppou warned, sitting back and letting out a yawn. "Just let Regalia rest. Needs to readjust, after being detached so long."

"...Yes, Mother." Tanith answered softly. Sighing, she kneeled beside her daughter, claw extended. "Take your time, Regalia. If you feel that… you're ready to sit up… just take my hand."

Easier said than done. Regalia's body felt heavy, sluggish; doing much more than raising a hand was a struggle for her. But as minutes passed, that weight began to diminish; her movement became a little easier, a little more refined. Holding a hand over her head, she worked her fingers one by one, slowly clenching and unclenching her fist.

Eventually, she reached out and gripped her mother's hand. And as her mother gave her a gentle tug, lifting her into a sitting position, she felt something new. Something she had never experienced before in her life.

Her back, bending. Flexing smoothly.

Tanith looked to her daughter in concern as her eyes widened. "Regalia? Is everything okay?"

"M-mirror…" Regalia said shakily. "I need a mirror…"

The Abyssals present glanced between each other, uncertain. "Hold on…" Tanith said as she rose to her feet. Stepping back, she reached into her coat and pulled out an old wardrobe mirror, framed in lightly-tarnished copper, and set it on the floor. She frowned at the sight of her family all giving her strange looks. "What? It's the only one… we have on our island. This is just how… I keep it safe."

As she made to move the mirror where Regalia could see however, the Re-class held up a hand. "N-no, Mom… I can… do it."

Regalia leaned forward and grabbed the rim of the dock to each side. Slowly, hesitantly, her legs were pulled inward to her chest. Over the course of a minute, she lifted herself into a squatting position, gradually rising to a crouch. Finally, she managed to stand up fully; her new legs trembled beneath her, lacking all the muscle memory of her old self and completely unused to supporting weight. Regalia took several deep breaths as she stood in place; less from exhaustion, more to try and keep herself calm. She silently marveled at her newfound sense of balance… the sensation of her back arching, as she truly stood upright for the first time in her life.

Slowly, she raised a hoof—wobbling slightly as she worked to keep her balance—and brought it down, in front of the other. The next hoof came up, higher than the other; with a huff, Regalia stepped up, out of the dock.

With one last deep breath, Regalia took the last two steps forward and looked into the mirror.

"Th-this…"

Regalia was speechless at the sight of the healthy, pristine Re-class staring back at her. She reached up, gingerly prodding her own cheek, watched as the Re-class in front of her did the same. Her hand rose higher, over her shoulder, higher than she could ever manage before. There was no hump to stop her, as she reached all the way back, felt the fingertips brushing over her spine—over her straight keel.

This… this was real.

This was her.

Regalia began to giggle softly, weakly, as she fell back to her knees. The giggles quickly grew into full-blown laughter—joyful laughter, relieved laughter.

It was over. She was finally free.

No more, did she need to fear the ocean. No more, did she have to sit back and watch her family set sail without her. No more, did she need to worry about being seen as a freak among freaks.

She was a Re-class Battleship, now… a TRUE Re-class Battleship.

She didn't know quite when the tears started to flow from her eyes, but that was inconsequential. Turning around—relishing the feeling of her torso twisting, of her back obeying her will—she lunged at Hoppou, wrapping the surprised Princess in as tight a hug as she could manage. "Thank you, Grandma…" she half-sobbed, as she felt her mother's arms wrap around the two of them from behind. "Thank you…"

The tired princess gave her granddaughter a small smile. "Now Regalia doesn't have to be sad anymore. Regalia can finally be part of her fleet."

"Mother…" Tanith sounded like she was on the verge of tears, herself. "How could we ever repay you… for what you've done for Regalia?"

At this, Hoppou chuckled. "Live. Be happy. You've earned it."

Gently pulling away from Hoppou, the Re-class wiped her tears away with a sleeve and nodded.

"Okay, Grandma. I think… I think I can do that."

 

[darthcourt10]

Lord K Omake: You just had to say those words, Delaware...

Arawn_Emrys said:
Lord K iirc, red hakama would be wrong here, red and white is a Miko. Blue and white for a male priest.
Harry Leferts said:
I figured it was a reference to Inuyasha considering he wears red hakama.​

Technically, Kogamaru isn't a priest, and while the colors picked are mainly just for the Momiji comparison joke, in-character wise, Kogamaru just grabbed them because they were the first things he found that were old, ratty, and he didn't mind getting covered in sand.

K9Thefirst1 said:
For all his Japanese Clark Kent Tier mild mannerness, it's easy to forget that Koga can be a badass.
Harry Leferts said:
Very much so.​

For all his youth, looks, and closet-dorkiness when out of the limelight of official duties and in the company of friends, it should not be forgetten that while the Hokubu denounce Royomaru and Ezomaru is complicated, the clan is still one populated by quite a large elderly and conservative population, and takes great pride in their history. Modern and progressive though they like to be, they are also still wolves, and while he and his Elders don't see eye-to-eye on all things, he still earned their respect and confidence enough to remain heir and become Koshaku.

Harry Leferts said:
Okay, them re-enacting Touhou is just plain awesome. I do remember though that Harry has Tom's old notes on magical flight, which is very Touhou. With this, I can see Harry and Natsumi working on it alongside Asuka as a sort of project. Granted, there is the issue of it coming from a Dark Lord's notes mind you, but since there is nothing dark about it? I imagine that the various adults would have little issue... well, that and Mary would likely swipe herself a copy of them just because everyone was likely wondering how he managed it.

The last bit was just plain LoL worthy because I can imagine them holding up the pregnancy tests and blinking at the tiny boat on it. "It says that I'm a boat."​

"How many lines does it show?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean 'I don't know', it should show either one line or two, perfectly straight and in red."

"I have three squiggly lines, in red white and blue, that spell out USN."

Harry Leferts said:
And that makes far too much sense. I did have a laugh with Kiba and Koga acting as Ran and Chen respectively. Though I wonder if Kiba thought that through considering how often Ran and Yukari are sometimes paired...

Harry Leferts said:
To be honest, part of it is that the girl needs to want a child subconsciously at least.
Jaws.7 said:
At least one of the participants? so does that mean Kiesie is also wanting a child subconsciously?
Harry Leferts said:
Possibly, though I imagine that the shipgirls in question might as well.​

Browsing through Instagram, North Dakota glowered.

Washington and Gale picking out baby clothes.

Washington and Gale assembling a crib.

Washington and Gale starring lovingly into each others eyes, before a trip to the doctors.

Washington and Gale starring lovingly into each others eyes in a variety of other settings in general.

"Why can't I have that?" bemoans North Dakota piteously.

Glancing over Delaware, raises an eyebrow. "What, a rugrat?"

"No! That!" The elder of the two twins still looks mildly confused, before looking thoughtful. "Oh, a hook up?"

North Dakota pauses. "Well, I guess that would be cool to."

Looking around to check no one else is about, Delaware then leans in towards her sister conspiratorially. "Well in that case.... I have an idea."

Showing North Dakota the leave passes she has in her hand, Delaware balks. "You want to go follow everyone heading to Vegas for leave?!"

"Yeah!" exclaims Delaware excitedly. "It'll be great. There's no way we won't be able to score you a hook up there. Or a hooker if you're really that desperate."

The younger of the twins doesn't know whether to be offended or horrified. "But Mama South Carolina said to never go there!"

"Oh pshaw to that. All the girls who are even younger than us, like the Iowas, the NorCal sisters, and the SoDak sisters go all the time, and nothing bad ever happens to them. Funny to everyone else, sure, but at the most there's embarrassment and property damage."

North Dakota shuffles uneasily. "I don't know...."

Even so, in her mind, North Dakota can't help but fantasize. Maybe in Vegas, the City of Sin, she'll meet her Mr Right.

Some how.

It'll be like Cinderella, but with less pumpkins and glass slippers before the stroke of midnight, and more blackjack and hookers until their 72 hours of Leave are up.

Delaware however, remains eager to sin, and drag her sister into temptation as well.

"Come on, just think of all the mischief and fun we could get up to there! All the things we can do!"

"Such as sitting at a bar, being drunk and bemoaning my inability to find Mr Right until you get us in trouble?"

"How is that any different from what you are doing right now?"

North Dakota ignores her sister. "How about my increasing descent towards inevitable Christmas Cakedom? Or the growing possible permanence for the absence of any kind of little house with a white picket fence, and a little dog, and a mini-me who also looks a little bit like Mr Right?"

"Oh don't be such a sourpuss." Delaware rolls her eyes at her sister's dramatic pining for romance. "No one's going to want to get down and giggity with you, if you just keep on harping on about the impossible Mr Right. You need to stop being such a Mama's good little girl, and let your hair down a little! Why not cut loose and have some fun for once! What's the worst that could happen?"

Harry Leferts said:
Actually, it has been mentioned that there are such potions and the like out there, besides the obvious Polyjuice one. Interesting, part of it is that the Magical World has actually been more open about same-sex relationships then the non-magical. After all, hard to be against it where if one ibibes a potion with a piece of their partner like a hair or drop of blood, they can get pregnant with child... though in the case of men, they need a separate potion to become women first.
K9Thefirst1 said:
I just have this mental image of Kisei and the twins - utterly drunk - apparateing into a Magical Pharmacy in Magical Las Vegas and Kisei ordering a dose (or ten) of the stuff, charged to her expense account.

Won't say anything else, but if that happened, Kisei likely had a very awkward conversation with accounting a couple weeks after that party.​

Standing in front of Howard and Mary, Kisei looks like she would like nothing better than for the earth to open up and swallow her. In her superior's hand, is the monthly listing for Tokyo Station's expenses, with a number of items highlighted and with her card number listed next to them.

"A-And so that's why those are probably charged to my account. And also likely why I woke up with a gummy ring on my finger, and wasn't able to walk properly for the next few days."

Kisei waits for the rebuke. The judgment and disgrace, and shame to be heaped upon her. This is it, her career is torpedoed, and directly in front of two of the people she looks up to most.

Finally, Mary shrugs. "Well, as things go, this is probably one of the tamer things I've ever seen charged to a Station account."

For a moment, the younger woman's train of thought derails. "Er, what?"

"You should have seen what used to turn up on Bangkok's accounting dockets back in the day." Making a face and grimacing, the witch stares off lost in thought and memories. "I never partook in such things, but some of the people we had back in the day- especially the young bloods, well- I remember back in, I think it was '61-"

As the witch trails off into a rambling story involving downtime between missions, that crosses paths with Russian spies in a brothel, then an undercover operation, before somehow seguing into a incident of somebody being charged for inciting whores to riot, Kiesei looks to Swordsman uncertainly. The wizard just chuckles.

"Next to some of the stuff others were buying and charging to their expenses accounts, no one's going to care or notice. If you feel that bad, you can pay it back in installments out of your next few paychecks like the rest of us need to for other less 'justifiable' expenses."

"Yes," says Mary dryly as she rolls her eyes. "Like all the Absinthe. And the water melons. And the rental. And the other rental that at least survived to be filled with water melons."

The wizard just ignores his fellow veteran agent, and levels a look at her that isn't angry or disappointed, but still makes her feel like she's nineteen and just been caught by her dad or grandmother again, and now has to own up to the fact that the reason she wasn't at church that morning was because she was off with her boyfriend getting railed.

"Well look, as long as you used protection, then everything should be fine."

Kisei cringes at what parts of the alcohol fueled marathon she remembers, causing Mary to give her a painfully disbelieving look. "You did use protection, didn't you."

"O-Of course I did! I know I wasn't that drunk!"

Oh god this is so embarrassing, somebody kill her now.

"B-Besides, they were shipgirls! Even if MSSB trumps contraceptives, they could probably only get knocked up if they wanted to, and who on earth thinks about, or hopes to get knocked up and have kids during one night stands? The chances are practically nil!"

Even if he's only heard the story second hand, now it's Swordsman's turn to dryly look at Mary.

The witch refuses to acknowledge his mirth at the irony with a response.

Ternasta said:
Hmm, should be an interesting conversation when they finally track her down. I suspect someone will be commenting on how James Bond is not the best role model for secret agents, and it will likely be both Mary (probably calm and straightforward, trying not to laugh) and Swordsman (telling her how badly he messed up doing something similar).​

*At some point down the line*

Looking at the results of the magical paternity test on the paper in front of her, Kisei pales in disbelief and horror.

Finally, she then blurts out the first thing that comes to her shell-shocked mind.

"Oh my god, I've become my grandfather."

Walking up to her, Kogamaru then gives the witch a commiserating pat on the shoulder.

Looking up and seeing who it is, Kisei pauses. Then she frowns angrily.

"Hey wait a minute! He wasn't that bad!"

K9Thefirst1 said:
OOH! I knew I forgot something! Kogamaru has excellent taste in exercise music! Though he might get uncomfortable that Porta Atlantia also likes the songs, it's themes of Autocracy if nothing else.​

I like to think that (more for humorous reasons), as much as he acts and holds himself to a better and more righteous standard, there's more of Kogamaru's grandfather and great-grandfather in him than most people realize. He's just good at keeping a cap on it and finding the right outlets (like Paradox sims). After all, the Hokubu have are a dynastic lineage that have been around longer than some countries, and have alternately been warriors and political figures for much of it's length, so there must be something they're doing right and teaching their heirs*

*barring Royomaru.

In terms of his capability and leadership as a Head of the Clan and a political figure inside and outside of Yamainutaira, Kogamaru's the kind of person who's not only read The Prince, but then understands that it's supposed to be ironic satire for largely what not to actually do as an up and coming hereditary ruler, trying to enter, grow and stabilize their previously eroded power in a corrupt and ailing system, filled with other (often) hegemonic autocrats. Funnily enough, the Machiavelli quote that Kogamaru probably considers more useful to himself than the classic "It better to be feared than loved" one:

The Actual Full Version said:
"It is better to be loved rather than feared, or feared rather than loved? It might perhaps be answered that we should wish to be both: but since love and fear can hardly exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved."​

Is probably one of the Socratic dialogues from Machiavelli's 'Art of War'

"To honor and reward virtù, not to have contempt for poverty, to esteem the modes and orders of military discipline, to constrain citizens to love one another, to live without factions, to esteem less the private than the public good. It is not difficult to persuade people to these ways, when one considers at length and approaches them in the usual manner, for the truth will appear in such examinations that every common talent is capable of undertaking them. Anyone can arrange these things; for example, one plants trees under the shadow of which he lives far more happily and merrily than if he had not planted them."​

Koga's intelligent enough to realize that the quote was written by a dude on the other side of the world 400 years before he was born, but he also find certain elements of the quote applicable to his situation with the appropriate swaps for concepts and contexts.

Kogamaru's take on things said:
"To honor and reward the spirit and ability of a population or leader. Not to lose touch with one's own power base. To uphold and work within the laws and bureaucracy of the government and the stability that recognizes his powers. To encourage citizens to love one another. To avoid disunity among one's followers. And that the good done in public is sometimes more valuable than the masterstroke in private. It is not difficult to persuade people to your own side, when one considers what they have to gain and approach them how they might be most amicable, for the truth will appear in such interaction that every common man is has a potential use or purpose, with the right word or price. Anyone can arrange these things; for example, one complains about planting crops for a ruler or government under the shadow of which he lives far more happily and with merely just complaints than if he had nought to eat or voice to be heard."​

K9Thefirst1 said:
So... Found an "Edginess Chart" from the mad folks on Reddit. Pretty sure that none of the Fleet of Laughter could possibly work for it just on their personalities alone. But what about the rest of our Abyssal OCs?​

Hm.... for the lulz
Spoiler: Jin
Race / Class

I think reincarnated Onryo of a pissed off Mizuchi fits, so +1

While she's generally good, Jin's also not without her moments of "unfathomable elemental" and "ancient wrath" (see poor Tsubasa and Soma), so that's probably Chaotic Neutral. Seriously, somebody attempt to say with a straight face that Jin isn't on the Chaotic end of the spectrum. +1

Character Appearance

Well, she normally has a White/Green motif, but if she does get pissed off enough, it becomes White/Black, so +1

Another +1, since her eyes change as well.

Jin? Scars? She only looks like she once got into a fight with a cheese-grater. Remember kids, friends don't let friends get into fights with nighttime raid bomber formations armed with 50. cal machinguns and 20mm cannons. +1

Personality

She's angry a lot, but it's rarely unreasonable, so +1 rather than the full two.

What's the opposite of arsonist? +3

Backstory

"Revenge is my life's goal" +3
That one should probably be made -3

She also still has one parent so +0.5

"Hey Jin?"

"Yeah?" Lazily the mizuchi looks over at Kiba browsing through his phone.

"You're technically a dragon reborn as a human."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"So does that make you a dragonkin- PUT THE COUCH DOWN!"

"COME BACK HERE SO I CAN SHOVE THAT PHONE WHERE THE SUN DON'T SHINE!!!"​

Is any sort of "-kin" +3

BONUS ROUND

"What on earth are you two doing?!"

"AI! TRIP THIS FUCKER FOR ME WILL YOU?! KOGA! GET SOME ROPE! THIS SOMEONE'S OVER DUE FOR A PROSTATE EXAM BY DOCTOR MY-FOOT-BROKEN-OFF-IN-HIS-ASS!"

"Help! Jin's gone nuts!"

"I'LL SHOW YOU NUTS! THINKING I'M ONE OF THOSE NUTTY FUCKERS!"​

Tries to get the party to fight + 4

So that's a score of 9.5 for Jin