Malaya Mayham - 1.1
January 1st, 2011
Manhattan, New York City


Amirah sighed as she looked at the memorial fountain in the courtyard of Liberty Island, she and Alina had just tossed coins into the fountain as is tradition with these fountains. She glanced up towards the towering monument that was the Statue of Liberty who stoically gazes out to sea. She couldn't help but wonder what her thoughts were at what was happening in the harbour. New York Harbour was unusually busy that New Year's Day.

As far as she could see, she could see countless ships of all sizes and types had dotted the harbour from the massive cruise liners to the small private boats. Amirah had always been fascinated by ships and the water in general. Alina joked, if things had gone differently, Amirah would have been a ship's captain, most likely a naval captain in the Commonwealth Navy. Amirah wouldn't argue as she let herself smile as she took in the sights.

She looked on out to sea as she took a whiff from her pipe. That is when she noticed something was happening, she noted there was an increase in aerial activity as she saw a pair of what appear to be a pair of Cessnas in what appear to be Civil Air Patrol markings flying southwards. She became rather confused by this but decided to think nothing of it.

"Hello New York~! Time for you to burn~" Amirah turned to see who muttered but saw no one.

"Amirah, are you alright?" Alina asked, Amirah looking up to see her sister looking at her with concern.

"Oh, it is nothing, Ally," Amirah waved it off, "How about you? Enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah! It is so awesome to see all these ships and boats but… why does it look like things are getting quite busy all of a sudden?"

Amirah looked up in confusion, as she looked around to see what Alina was talking about as the various ships and boats were moving about in a rather frantic manner. That was the quiet of the morning shattered, when a thunderous boom was heard. Amirah and Alina with the rest of the crowd on Liberty Island turned to the source which appeared to be from the south. The two sisters stepped closer to the edge of the waterfront to get a better look.

"That sounded like it came from Queens," A nearby man commented.

"What is causing that explosion?" Alina asked as she turned to Amirah but she found her sister merely staring off into the distance.

What she couldn't see is that Amirah's mind was being bombarded with flashes of terrifying sights. Searing through Amirah's eyes were flashes of a massive naval battle, flashes of guns and explosions and in the wind, a mess of flags were fluttering in the wind. Her ears were besieged by a cacophony of guns and explosions with the barking of men and the screaming of dying men. It felt so real for Amirah as if she was there on the deck of this battlewagon in battle as she can nearly feel the heat from the battle. That was until she was shaken out of her flashbacks by Alina shaking her.

"H-Huh?" Amirah gasped for a second before she caught her falling smoking pipe, "What is it, Ally?"

"Amirah, you were spacing out, what's wrong?" Alina asked.

"It is nothing, just another headache." Amirah reassured her sister but she didn't help her case by flinching when another explosion was heard from the same direction.

"Are you sure? You've been having a lot of these headaches since we arrived here. Don't lie to me, Mira," Alina crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing.

"I am fine, now let's go see if we can find out what's going on." Amirah said before more explosions, no Amirah was sure this was gun fire, erupted south of their position. This time she could see where it was coming from, a fort she saw when they sailed in on their cruise liner, the MS Queen Elizabeth. She watched as streaks of fire and smoke rose from the forts and out to sea, she somehow couldn't help but distinctively tell it was a missile being launched, with more following suit.

However it appeared the guns and missiles while still firing seemed to do little to whatever was approaching as soon smaller guns began to bark as well. Amirah could tell these were the 12 inch and 10 inch guns opening up. Soon however, Amirah, Alina and those on Liberty Island could see why the guns were firing. Dark ominous shapes were approaching the Narrows. Amirah watched as now 6 inch, 5 inch and even anti-air guns began blasting at these growing lumps in the sea.

This caused panic as people either began to run, scream or just stood in horror as they approached as if blackened misshapen islands that radiated a desire for death and destruction, running the gauntlet of fire while responding in kind. Amirah couldn't help but wonder if she was watching a twisted version of the old Naga legends from home. That is until the first dark shadow-shrouded island of death got past the choke point, past the construction site that was the new Narrows' bridge, Amirah watched as shapes on one of these unnatural islands moved in a painful and ungainly manner, before they appeared to raise their limbs. Then in what felt like an eternity, the beast belched fire. Amirah quickly turned around and watched their bloody mark as Battery Park erupted into fire.

It was then she understood why all the ships seemed to be in a rush, they were running and given how she could see people were crowding onto any vessel willing to take them. However in their rush, it appeared some were being forgotten like Amirah and the people now ironically trapped on Liberty Island. She could see more and more of these twisted moving islands slipping past the forts which are now reduced in capabilities but she can see brave souls fighting back with whatever they can get their hands on.

"That is right, burn New York! Burn and turn into Ashes!" The earlier voice now echoed in Amirah's head.

Amirah started to become concerned as the moving islands began to spread out, belching fire. At first they seem to ignore Liberty Island, instead aiming for Manhattan and the port, however that changed when huge columns of water erupted near the waterfront, now it appears that some of the twisted entities have decided to turn their attention on the islands in the harbour. Amirah's concern also grew as the ships and boats were still busy trying to get people out of the city.

"They need more time…" Amirah gritted her teeth as she saw a tugboat shatter into splinters by shell fire.

"Mira, we need to get to safety!" Alina cried.

"Y-Yeah, head towards the statue, I doubt these things' guns can smash through all that granite." Amirah remarked. The two sisters turned but realized they might be too late as shells were now impacting the island. Already, the cries of the dying could be heard amid the roar of guns. But they ran anyway, trying frantically to get to safety.

It was then, when they neared the memorial fountain, where some were already using it for cover, it happened. Amirah suddenly had a gut feeling that something terrible was about to happen, without a moment to lose, she shoved Alina into the fountain before she was engulfed by a flash and the last thing she could feel was her feet being lifted off the ground.

"What's the status of our guns?" A voice barked. Amirah shakes her head as she finds herself on what appears to be the bridge of a ship.

"Gun crews report all guns are loaded and ready to fire." .

"Chief? How are our boilers looking?"

"Purring like kittens, all 6 boilers are running fine."

"Fuel?"

"We are good, full tanks, she had a good meal before."

"Bugler! Sound of Action. Follow by the Double!"

It was then a young lad stepped up and to the speaker, began to play his bugle. Somehow Amirah could feel the flurry of organized mayhem that was taking place through the ship.

"Ma'am, we are ready for your command." Amirah blinked as she looked at the captain, his face looking quite familiar. However, that wasn't important, right now, there was an evacuation that needed protecting.

"Hoist the battle ensign!" Amirah said as she put one foot forward. She didn't even glance behind her to see the battle ensign of her dreadnought unfurling into the wind.

"HMS MALAYA, SAILING FORTH!"

MS Queen Mary 2

The crew were frantically trying to get as many people onboard with similar scenes repeating across the other cruise ships as well as whatever ships or boats that were available. However due to the panic, they were still not finished when the misshapen leviathans began their attack. The bridge crew looked on in panic as these beasts of steel and fire began to slowly make their way towards the piers. Orders to cast off were screaming at the back of the minds of the bridge crew.

"How many do we have onboard?" The captain asked.

"We have about 5,000 souls onboard, more are still boarding," An officer replied.

"We don't have much time! Those monsters are coming closer!" The executive officer barked, "We need to cast off now!"

"We can't leave all these people to die!" The navigator argued.

"If we don't move now, then we all die!"

As if to prove his point, a small ferry erupted into a ball of flame before it began to sink into the Hudson.

"No, we will wait, we have a duty here to save as many people as we can. People will die, yes, but when we can cut that down, I will not let that chance go. I will not go down as the captain who left thousands to die." The captain declared, "Continue with the evacuation."

The evacuation continued as ships and boats filled up as many people as they were willing to take, yet as this happened, New York City was being ravaged by the invaders and they were getting closer to the piers where the ships were being loaded. People were piling up to get onto anything that will take them. But it seems they were in a losing battle as the invading beasts were moving closer towards the ad hoc evacuation fleet.

Suddenly a sharp wail of whistle caught the attention of everyone, it even seemed to cause the attackers to pause as emerging behind them from the low hanging smoke and soot that was billowing out of lower Manhattan was a peculiar sight, it was massive leviathan of steel and iron, her steel gray hull seem to shine in the midday sun, her funnels were alive with smoke coming out. While some fell into despair at another even bigger beast coming to attack. It was then that people saw the flags flying proudly in the wind, it was the white, red and spot of blue of the Royal Navy Ensign, and this warship was flying one from almost every place possible.

Aboard HMS Malaya

Amirah frowned as she saw several small vessels had already been reduced to splinters, drifting in the Hudson. She offered a brief prayer to those already lost before she turned to the deadly business at hand.

"Slow to 5 knots," Amirah ordered.

"Aye-aye," The executive officer nodded before he stepped to a voice pipe, "Engineering, bring our speed to 5 knots."

Amirah need not hear the confirmation as she felt the turbines slow down, bringing the speed of the dreadnought to a slow crawl, the water barely breaking in her wake.

"Speed, 5 knots, ma'am" the XO relaid to which Amirah nodded.

"Do we have any idea what we are facing?" Amirah asked.

"Appears to be a force of three armoured cruisers, with another one leading a dreadnought near Governor's Island."

"Focus on the cruisers, we need to prevent them from disturbing the evacuation effort."

"Aye-aye ma'am." Amirah let herself smile as she felt the crew prepare for battle.

"Gunnery, solutions on the first cruiser?" Amirah requested.

"We have the range on it, ma'am," the gunnery officer replied.

"Do we know what we are shooting at?" Amirah asked.

"Well, we know it is not German, that's for sure, ma'am." An officer replied.

"Anything else, not sure."

"Understood; have the guns load high explosive with reduced charges, I don't want to damage the city," Amirah ordered.

"Aye-aye, ma'am," The gunnery officer replied, "How are we shooting?"

Amirah pondered for a few seconds on how to divide her fire against the three cruisers. It didn't take long.

"Turret A and B, focus on the leading cruiser, Turret X and Y, the second cruiser. Starboard secondary battery, smother the trailing cruiser, I want that bitch blind."

Just then the Commander of Malaya's Royal Marines Detachment came up to the bridge.

"Ma'am, permission to speak?" Amirah turned to see the Commander of her Royal Marines detachment standing at attention.

"What is it?"

"Permission for my marines to engage the warships with our small arms?"

"Denied, you are to disembark and assist in the defense of Manhattan. Spotters have seen landing crafts unloading soldiers onto Battery Park, I need you to protect the evacuation."

"Understood, ma'am, moving to disembark now." The Royal Marine commander saluted before he turned and left the bridge. Soon Amirah could feel her boats being prepared for launch.

"Lower the boats, mind the speed." Amirah commented.

"Aye-aye, ma'am." A sailor replied. After some time, Amirah saw her boats cutting across the Hudson towards Manhattan.

"Helmsman, bring us up to fifteen knots, we need to get alongside these cruisers, it appears they aren't aware that we are here."

"Aye-aye, ma'am."

Soon the rumble of 6 Admiralty three-drum boilers began to rise as they sent their raw power to the two steam turbines, leading Malaya to start churning the water, a white wake rising behind her. Amirah watched at the same time, the turrets making their turn towards their designated targets.

"Ma'am, guns are ready to open fire, waiting for your orders."

"Are we sure we should fire? What if our shells don't do the intended damage."

"We should put more effort to identify the cruisers, ma'am"

"Enough!" Amirah snapped, ""I will not let innocent lives be lost all because we can't tell what the clearly hostile ships are! Let the historians figure it out! Commence firing!"

Then with a deafening roar, eight 15 inch 42 caliber Mark I guns belched out 15,504 pounds of high explosive ordinance, while four of her 6 inch BL Mark XII guns barked in anger, hurling nearly 450 pounds of high explosive shells.

Pier 16, New York City

"Covering fire!" A police officer shouted as he and other officers laid into the approaching enemy, trying to allow more people to get out of the city. He was at a barricade next to the burning Pier 16. It started as normal patrol, until orders came to prepare for a possible large-scale attack. Then all hell broke loose, smoke started to rise out of Staten Island and Long Island before Manhattan was hit something as explosions rocked the city, now invaders were streaming onto the island on Battery Park and now were reaching Wall Street, with some reports on the radio saying that they got as far as Times Square.

"Where the hell is the National Guard?" His partner shouted.

"They are heading here now! But I heard they are busy trying to evacuate Midtown first, especially the UN building."

"Fuck the UN! We need heavy firepower here!" Another officer barked, "We already lost three guys here! And we are running out of ammo!"

The officer couldn't fault him, they only had a single rifle amongst the ten officers that were at the barricade and the rest had pistols, and even those were running low.

Suddenly, the bellow of a foghorn rang loud, nearly drowning out the battle at hand. Everyone turned to see what it was. The officer also turned and saw a cloud of steam emerging from behind the Brooklyn Bridge. Then a shadow moves through the water and from the mist, a shape, no, a ship, is taking form. And the officer watched as the bow then an entire battleship emerged from the cloud of steam, moving below the Brooklyn Bridge but nothing like the Iowas that he had seen sail into the harbour, now this was much older.

HMS Malaya

Amirah looked out to the Hudson, to the wrecks her guns had left, what were once warships were now floating and burning wrecked husks. The Royal Navy gunnery officer couldn't help but smile at the work of his gunners. However Amirah wasn't smiling, she was wondering as to who these cruisers were, could they have been friends in the past? Now, she will never know but something inside her is at unease at the sight of the wrecked armoured cruisers.

"Ma'am, those other two warships are coming around Battery Park, they mean to fight us."

"All turrets, focus on the capital ship, starboard secondary guns, aim for the armoured cruiser" Amirah barked.

"Armour piercing?"

"Yes, full charges, give these bastards hell." Amirah barked.

"Ma'am, the Royal Marines report that they are currently holding the line around the Times Square area."

"Good" Amirah nodded, "Helmsman, turn to starboard, we will block their path."

Amirah watched and felt all 33,260 tons of British steel turned to face Manhattan, with her bow in the direction of the mangled superstructure of USS Oriskany[1]. She noted that USS Growler was missing but seeing no wreckage, Amirah figured that she must have woken up.

"Ma'am, they are coming up on the position of the trailing cruiser"

"Range, three miles and closing!"

"Captain, you may fire when ready." Amirah turned to the captain who nodded.

"All turrets, shoot!"

Once again, Malaya's guns barked in anger, soon tall geysers of river water erupted around the hostile warships.

"We have the range." commented the XO.

"Enemy ships are engaging!"

The enemy fired back in response but thanks to the significant emotional event of being fired upon, their shells fell short. Amirah noted the time, it was nearly dusk, so she decided to pull a page from her sister's book.

"Have all the starboard searchlights turn on, full power, aim them at their bridges." Amirah ordered.

"Playing nasty, I see" commented the captain replied and soon Malaya's powerful searchlights soon flashed on, all aimed at the capital ship, this had the intended effect as the capital ship's gunnery seemed to go awry as the shells flew high.

However the armoured cruiser reminded everyone it was still in the fight as it fired off the three forward facing guns at Malaya and unfortunately they found their mark as two shells smashed into Malaya's catapult and starboard crane as Amirah felt the ship shudder under her feet. Soon smoke began to rise from the aircraft deck.

"Put out any fire!" Amirah ordered.

"Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire on the aircraft deck!" A sailor barked into the intercom. Soon the fire was contained, luckily it was merely superficial fires started by the wooden deck that was the aircraft hangar.

Malaya continued to fire on the battleship with her main guns while the armoured cruiser had the undivided attention of Malaya's starboard secondary battery, this time even her 4 inch Anti-Air guns joined in the battle. Amirah, up on the bridge couldn't help grin at her gunners' work. Amirah watched as the armoured cruiser began to slow down; however thanks to the searchlights to her face, the dreadnought turned at the last second, smashing into the stern of an increasingly crippled armoured cruiser before turning port, exposing her broadside. Amirah at this point couldn't help but marvel at the rather splendid lines the opposing dreadnought had even as its Q turret was turning desperately to aim its guns at Amirah.

"Hit that bitch again before she turns her aft turrets around!" Amirah called out. Her 15 inch rifles compiled and soon the dreadnought shuddered from the fire. Time then froze for just a moment before all hell broke loose. A massive ball of fire and heat erupted from the dreadnought, engulfing the entirety of the midsection of the steel beast. The heat was so intense that Amirah and the bridge crew could feel it from their positions. The explosion's force shattered windows and tossed anything not bolted down into the air. Some of the searchlights were turned to the warship that looked like someone picked it up and tore it in two before dropping the two halves back into the river. Amirah watched as debris fell into the river and both New York and New Jersey with some landing on her ship. She winced as a particularly large section landed nearby. She also glanced around to see several buildings collapsed from debris falling.

"Ma'am, we have someone trying to hail us on the radio." The comms officer reported.

"Who? The New York Port Defense?" Amirah asked.

"No, it is USS New York," The comms officer replied, "They are asking if we are alright?"

"Let me talk to her." Amirah said to which the comms officer nodded, "This is Malaya to New York, can you hear me?"

"This is New York, I can hear you just fine," New York replied, "So how are you, that was quite the explosion?"

"Don't worry, barely a scratch, you should have seen the other girl," Amirah replied, "So what are you doing?"

"Nothing much, was sailing to the battle, only to find it over" New York replied.

"Within the harbour, I can hear Fort Tilden still firing away." Amirah pointed out.

"Right, so what do you want to do?" New York asked.

"I am planning to escort the evacuation fleet north." Amirah said, "I could use the help."

"Alright, consider it done." New York agreed.

Amirah watched as the American battlewagon made its way around Manhattan to link up with her. Amirah couldn't help but sigh in relief, now knowing she support.

"Wow, you've been busy." New York commented as the dreadnought sailed up the river.

"Well, someone had to keep the civilians safe." Amirah replied. "Have you unloaded your marines?"

"Way ahead of you, they are already on the ground helping the guys fight these bastards." New York replied.

It was then another voice piped up on the radio.

"WAIT, WAIT! We are coming along!"

Amirah and New York looked in the direction of the voice. The two dreadnoughts couldn't help but wonder, 'who the hell was that.'

"This is New York, who the hell was that?"

"Damn it Gridley! I told you to announce our names!" Another voice barked.

"Ah, sorry! This is USS Gridley with USS Craven," The lead voice announced before a throat clearing could be heard, "Oh right, we also have two Clemson, USS Borie and USS Barry as well as two Wickes, HMS Campbelltown and HMS Castleton."

"So you are two Gridleys, two Clemsons and two Wickes?" Amirah summarized.

"Yes, we are coming up from Ellis Island" Gridley answered.

"Ellis Island… Tell me, is Liberty Island alright?" Amirah asked.

"Liberty Island looks alright, there are US Coast Guard helicopters on the island right now."

Amirah felt a weight fall off her shoulders and her mind felt lighter as now she knows her sister now had a chance to survive.

Liberty Island

Alina still couldn't believe it.

She still can't believe it.

She wouldn't believe it.

Alina believes she is still in shock from the loss of her left leg but she couldn't deny what was being presented to her. Laying in front of her, was her sister, Her face covered with blood, all originating the gash on her forehead. Her eyes were glazed over, her arms and legs were mangled wrecks but for some reason, Amirah had a serene smile on her face as if she knew that Alina would live.

MS Queen Victoria

The captain could finally relax as they left New York City. The Queen Victoria was filled to the brim with people, there was barely any space for anyone to stand, last count, nearly 10,000 souls onboard. The same can be said for every other cruise liner that is in this convoy, that's not even counting all the various ferries, yachts, pleasure boats, tugboats. Some of the boats were so crowded they looked less like boats than a hull with people on top.

"Sir, boats coming down river" A crewmate called out and the captain walked over to the wing of the bridge. It was a sizable fleet of fast moving boats leading slow moving truck ducks from what the captain could see were from that Albany based tour company. It was another group of vessels the captain had seen coming down river, all he assumed were heading to help in saving as many people from the battle of New York.

He then turned to watch the boats sail past before a cacophony of horns and whistles erupted from the upriver ships while cheers and shouts were heard from the evacuated people. Then came the sharp whistles of the ships at the very end of the ad hoc convoy, the ships that in the opinion of Queen Victoria's captain are the reasons why this convoy was able to sail to begin with. Especially the one flying the biggest Royal Ensign he had ever seen. He shuddered at the thought of how the evacuation would have gone if she hadn't arrived.

Author's notes:
[1} USS Oriskany replaces USS Intrepid as the latter was sold to the Byzantine.
 
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Timeline Post III
22 April 1898

The Spanish reaction to the American Ultimatum was about what one could expect. The Spanish Empire severed all diplomatic ties. It became apparent to everyone now that war was unavoidable and that one of the oldest still extant European Empires would be fighting a nation that had existed for only 122 years.

However, some wheels were already in motion. US Navy ships, including some of the ponderous battleships of the Navy, were sighted off the coast of Cuba, taking up station. Their intention was obvious. The United States was implementing a blockade.

Meanwhile, far to the south, another of the Navy's great battleships, USS Oregon BB-3 sailing in concert with an American Gunboat was racing north as quickly as she could. She had only a month and a half ago, departed San Francisco to join the Atlantic Fleet.

However, the Spanish reaction to the blockade was predictable.

24 April 1898

The headlines of newspapers across the world were universally emblazoned with some variation of SPAIN DECLARES WAR!

26 April 1898


The United States of America informed Spain that a State of War had existed between Spain and the United States since the 22nd of April 1898.

30 April 1898

The spirit of the mighty battleship, USS Oregon BB-3 grinned as she found out that a state of war now existed between the United States and Spain. Finally, they could get some revenge for Maine, the old battleship hadn't deserved to die like that. The Spanish Cruisers currently cowering in Cuba would be a nice way to gain revenge.

Thus invisible to everyone, Oregon's smile went unseen. But it was mirrored by others.

1 May 1898

A big man from New York by the name of Theodore Roosevelt started the process to form a unit that would eventually gain fame in Cuba as the Rough Riders.

1 May 1898

As a small but powerful squadron of American warships pulled into Manila Bay to confront seven Spanish Ships, Admiral George Dewey gave the order "You may fire when ready, Gridley." at 0541 local time.

The spirit of the lead American cruiser watched as her gun turrets swung out to engage. She roared a single phrase as the command "Shoot!" came to her turrets. "FOR MAINE!"

USS Olympia roared her fury and the ensuing battle was relatively quick and decisive, seeing to the destruction of the entire Spanish Squadron.

7 May 1898

Theodore Roosevelt's fury knew no bounds as he glared at the telegram that he had just finished reading. He wanted nothing more than to find the man who had made this asinine decision and bend them into a pretzel. After all, his efforts to acquire .30 Army and rifles in said caliber had hit a stonewall.

The reasonings were rather simplistic, the US Army was frankly having problems finding the equipment to equip everyone who was enlisting in the Army, apparently a unit being commanded by a Navy Man like himself didn't rate higher on the priority list even with his position.

Theodore paused. Navy. If he couldn't use his position and influence to get Army equipment then he would have to try for the Navy instead. Besides, 6mm Remington had a number of advantages over .30-Army, mostly in the fact that you could carry a lot of ammunition for it. But he would remember how the Army had tried to screw him and his unit.
 
Onslaught 2.2
AN: Well, well, well. This story is developing swiftly, isn't it? The quote below is the first to hint at the major timeline changes…beyond the mention of the Byzantine Empire in the side story The Aegean Crusade.

Also, this is primarily a setup chapter for Onslaught.



"It takes three years to build a ship, three hundred years to build a tradition. Crete will hold." - Admiral Charles Forbes during the opening phases of the Battle for Crete when 1200 German, Italian, Hungarian, and Turkish planes attacked.

New York City
Flechette


Gunfire rattled incessantly, the surprisingly soft reports of 6x60mm NATO dueled with the harsh booming cracks from enemy rifles. Machine guns crackled and spat steel while plumes of smoke rose high into the air from countless cracking fires. Artillery and mortar fire thumped and pounded like drums. In many areas, the streets yawned open like chasms, revealing the subways and the myriad of tunnels below while clouds of toxic gas flowed through some of the streets like water.

Flechette knew that currently, she was far enough north to not have to worry about the enemy. Thus she dashed across the street and made her way carefully toward the armory. She could see men manning a defensive perimeter. She couldn't help but ask herself how to approach this without getting shot, at least before an idea came to her.

Slinging the ruins of her iconic arbalest, Flechette raised her hands and then shouted in a loud, clear voice, hoping to project it as far as possible. "THIS IS FLECHETTE OF THE NEW YORK CITY WARDS!"

The soldiers manning the barricade jumped and a variety of weapons were swung in her direction. She had stared down the barrel of a gun before, but staring right down the barrels of a bunch of 6mm rifles and a machine gun was quite unnerving. Primarily because the most common firearms she encountered were pistols.

"Approach, slowly with your hands raised! Try anything funny or you aren't who you say you are and they'll need a DNA test to figure out who you were!" One of the soldiers shouted in response.

Swallowing thickly, Flechette approached, keeping her hands raised as she slowly walked to the barricade. The only reason she was even approaching this Armory was primarily because of what had happened to her arbalest, a bullet had snapped one of the arms, and the tension cable had then snapped and left a deep gash across her right cheek. The wound had bled heavily but Prism had patched her up and after giving her a pistol, had told her to get a new weapon. That had led to a rather harrowing, multi-hour-long trek to this point.

As she came into view of the lights. She found grim-faced men and women manning M1919A6s and primarily armed with M1C series rifles. The weapons glimmered in the slowly improving light of dawn. Slowly, the weapons were lowered and Flechette allowed herself to exhale in relief.

"What the hell are you doing here Flechette?" someone asked.

"I-I need a new weapon." She said, unslinging her arbalest. The snapped arm and broken tension cable were plain as day.

"Ooh, ouch." One of the soldiers said.

"You sure you don't need to be looked over by a medic?" another asked, clearly looking at the dressed gash.

"Prism patched me up, I am fine," Flechette said, turning her head to hide the dressing.

"Still, see a medic and have them change the bandage. We're pretty far from the frontlines in Lower Manhattan which are your usual stomping grounds. Actually, what is the situation down there?" a man wearing the rank insignia of a Lieutenant ordered.

"It's pretty bad in Manhattan, my arbalest got broken during fighting in Times Square. I've heard that the US Army finally has gotten a division to Manhattan and that they're deploying for action, but we're going to need more forces to properly create a defensive line. The tunnels aren't making things easier. That's how fighting erupted in Times Square." Flechette's last few hours had been filled with blood and violence.

"Christ, things must be bad then." The Lieutenant said as he motioned for her to enter the perimeter. Flechette took those steps and immediately relaxed, the last few hours were finally over.

"They are," Flechette said and then hurried into the armory.

It didn't take long for her to find a medic who promptly changed her dressing and told her to keep the damn thing clean before pointing her in the direction required to get a weapon. She came before the counter and holding the ruins of the Arbalest in her hands, allowed herself to sniffle. The weapon had been as much of a partner as it had been a tool, it had gotten her through so much that it caused a tightness in her chest, losing it like this.

Then she gently set the ruined weapon down on a table along with its quiver as she looked at the Guardsman managing the armory.

"I need a weapon," she said.

The man nodded and disappeared into a shockingly empty armory. He came back with a variety of pouches, six magazines, a rifle, and curiously a helmet that would clash horribly with the colors of her costume. Nervously, Flechette donned the pouches replacing her Ward-issued ones with Army National Guard ones, then donned the helmet, then put the magazines into their pouches. Then she accepted the rifle, she had done firearms courses before, but it still felt odd. The weapon was much heavier than the MP5s and P90s that the PRT used, it felt like she could use the damn thing as a club and not worry about breaking the damn thing. Stamped on the side of the receiver was a thing that said M1G4, a remanufactured M1A4 Barand from World War II. The bakelite furniture didn't exactly go well with the brown-colored Picatinny rails, the rifle had been outfitted with a Holographic sight.

"I must admit that I love 6mil NATO as it's quite a nice cartridge. Low recoil and the solid steel bolts in these Golf-series Barands make them devastatingly accurate." The armorer said.

"Thank you," she said softly as she checked the thirty-round magazine and then the magazine content before guiding the magazine home.

"No problem," the man said, collecting her broken Arablast and quiver. "I'll try and fix this Flechette."

"It's tinkertech," Flechette admitted.

"I don't care, I know how much you love this damn thing." The man said before vanishing. He reappeared a few minutes later and put a small backpack on the table. He opened it and pulled out a variety of items. Including several more pouches and two knives.

He tapped the First Aid. "This is an Individual First Aid Kit, it is for you, for when you get hit." He said, pushing it and its pouch forward. Flechette nervously took it and secured it to her belt.

"This is a sustainment pouch, it contains three MREs," he said, pushing it forward. Flechette accepted it.

A third pouch was pushed forward. "This has an M50 Joint Service Mask in it. The enemy has deployed chemical agents, I would recommend always having this thing in arm's reach."

"This is a Sidewinder Handheld Flashlight, useful for illumination, signaling, and finding blood splatters." The man said, pushing the flashlight forward.

"Army issue Ka-Bar fighting knife, useful for a variety of situations." The man, his nametag read Bowles, said, pushing one of the knives forward. Again Flechette took it and secured it to her belt.

"Finally, here's an M1 Bayonet for your Barand. You probably won't need it, but it's better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it," he explained and Flechette nodded, taking the bayonet and its scabbard.

"No grenades?" Flechette asked, she had already had several close encounters with the fucking things, having been almost blown up more than once and actually had once.

"No, you don't have the training for the damn things and you could very easily kill yourself or friendlies with the fucking things." The man said and any attempt to persuade the man died in her throat. Right, even with her power, the chaos of combat had taught her that you could have thinker abilities to allow you near-perfect aim and you could still miss.

Before she turned away, she spotted something odd behind the man. "Is that a fucking musket?!" she demanded.

The man turned and looked, then nodded. "Not quite, it's a Sharps Carbine actually. We have about a dozen here."

"HOW?!" Flechette demanded.

"I have not received paperwork relieving me of responsibility for maintaining these rifles. Thus, we maintain those rifles until the paperwork arrives, and not a moment sooner." The man said and Flechette boggled.


Boston

Civil Twilight was well underway, the sky turning a wide variety of colors hued towards red and orange as the sun was set to rise soon. The ravaging fires that had rampaged through the city were finally beginning to blow themselves out thanks to the wind pushing them up against the ocean and starving them of fuel. Their own location caused the formation of pyrocumulonimbus clouds which had resulted in severe rainstorms that had played an enormous role in extinguishing the fires.

But not before everything north of the Mystic River and Chelsea Creek had been consumed by a ravaging firestorm that had begun to alter the very environment to suit its purposes. Likewise, downtown Boston, Charlestown, and Cambridge had also been ravaged by enemy naval guns, high explosive munitions, and gas had dropped upon the communities like heavy anvils, leaving death and destruction in their wake. Meanwhile in the harbor proper lay the ruined wrecks of ships that even in their mangled, destroyed states, oozed a cold malice.

Through it all came a Coast Guard Utility Boat, it swept past the battered but proud form of the USS Constitution where she stood not far from the I-90 bridge. At the prow of the three-masted frigate, a woman with shocking gray eyes and brown hair shot with iron gave the vessel a solemn look as it proceeded past them. The snouts of the remaining guns that poked clear of their gunports were heavily fouled with powder. The strange woman gave the Utility Boat a sharp nod as it rumbled past.

In the main channel now, the boat pressed forward, passing the shattered ruins of Fort Independence which had been torn apart by explosive shells despite its bold defiance in the face of the enemy. Its masonry shattered, the guns dismounted, landing parties going ashore and butchering those sheltering within its walls. According to what was left of the local PRT, there had been no less than three separate cluster triggers inside the fort's walls.

The boat pressed on, and the shattered, unrecognizable form of Boston-Logan International Airport was there. One of the local Parahuman gangs had died to a man and cape to prevent the enemy from detonating the fuel reserves like a giant fuel-air bomb. They had fought and died to protect the city and would be remembered for their bravery.

Closer now to Spectacle Island the Utility Boat pushed, sitting in the main channel was the battle-damaged but still combat-capable form of USCGC Bernard Weber, the only surviving Coast Guard Cutter outside of USCGC William Flores which had evacuated to Brockton Bay. The other eight had been lost to enemy action. Surrounding her like protective guppies was a trio of battered Medium Response Boats. But she wasn't the main form indicative of danger and protection.

That came into view a moment later, beaten and battered, but swinging proudly at anchor closer to the channel between Spectacle Island and Long Island. The huge proud destroyer bore the number 793 on her bow in huge white numbers outlined in black. The quad 40mm Bofors that could see them slowly tracked them, the message was simple but effective, they pulled something fucky with what USS Cassin Young considered to be her charge or herself, and she would fire on them. A PRT boat had already learned that the hard way trying to do the former, it was currently upside down with smoke pouring from the riddled carcass about a half kilometer away from where the UTB was.

Pushing further on, they dog-legged south. Looming like a grounded leviathan was their objective, firmly beached on the coast of Spectacle Island. At 600 feet long, the long low battered form of a Cleveland class was incredibly imposing, even in the condition that it was in. Two of the large threatening triple superfiring turrets were blown open, and the superstructure was fire-blackened with one of the funnels having collapsed while gushing down her sides came plumes of oily, bloody water. The ship was practically a ruin that rested in the center of a growing pool of oil and blood.

The Utility Boat nudged its way forwards, the singular screw churning the water into an interesting color as it pressed in closer. The 40mm Bofors on Cassin Young stopped tracking them, possibly because the distinctive racing stripe of the Coast Guard was now easier to see. The fact that the Bofors weren't tracking them anymore made the five souls onboard the UTB breathe a collective sigh of relief.

"See her?" The CPO helming the UTB asked, his nametag read Henry Maddox. He was staring at the figure who seemed half slumped over, standing in the middle of a ghostly hull that at one point had been a Cleveland class. Her dark hair and yellow feathers gave away her identity, but there was the fact that she looked like she had gotten into a fight with a meat grinder and lost, the dirty water rested part way up her thighs and one of her arms was a mangled bloody ruin that was missing a hand.

"I do sir, she's a mess." One of the two Seamen replied, his nametag read Michael Colt.

"Think she's conscious?" The second Seaman, David Ramirez replied.

"I don't know, the PRT wants her back in confinement. Frankly, they can go kiss Satan's hairy asshole." Henry replied.

"Still, I hope she takes to the fact that we have to debride her well," Michael said, gesturing to where the two machinist mates were going over their electric tools.

"With what those fucking animals did to her, she's going to be skittish, touchy, and nervous as fuck." David added.

"That's the fucking truth. How the hell do you even shrink a ship-whatever the fuck that is." Henry said.

"Shipgirl, Chief. Though you are not wrong, what's worse she was a civilian before all of this started." Michael said.

"Anyways, we're in loud hailer range. How do we address her? Hull name or real name?" David asked, picking up the talker.

"Try her real name first," Henry ordered.

"Aye Chief."


Lewiston, Maine
Victoria Dallon


Victoria Dallon groaned as she swam back into consciousness…funny, she didn't remember blacking out. Machines softly beeped and she was suddenly aware of a needle in her arm, she looked at it and realized what it was…a specialized tinkertech needle designed for Shield Brutes…like her. The last thing she remembered was landing, Purity practically landing next to a gurney and depositing Crystal, who was very pale and lethargic on it. She had been in the process of running alongside the gurney when…

Then, she realized, she woke up here.

"You're awake." A voice said to her right and Victoria shifted to look over and saw a surprisingly mousy woman with brown hair and eyes.

"Who are you?" Victoria demanded.

"Kayden Russell née Anders." The woman, Kayden, replied.

"Anders as in?" Victoria began, boggling.

"As in related to Max Anders? Yes. For the record, I have gotten a divorce from that bastard, but everyone recognizes me more easily when I mention Anders." Kayden said and then she sighed deeply.

"Where's Crystal?" Victoria asked weakly.

"In the trauma center…" Kayden looked down. "Her prognosis isn't good. She lost almost two liters of blood before they managed to stop the bleeding."

Victoria boggled at Kayden as her mind raced, trying to figure out how Kayden could have known about Crystal. How the hell she was even here… then it clicked and she pointed at her with a finger. "You're-!" she started before cutting herself off.

"Purity? Yeah." Kayden admitted.

"You're uh, uh," Victoria stammered, not sure how to continue.

Kayden leaned back and smirked in an incredibly annoying fashion. "Not what you expected?" she asked.

"Yeah, hell, you could pass for a kindergarten teacher," Victoria admitted and Kayden laughed. For a Neo-Nazi, it was a shockingly musical sound.

"Oh, don't tell me!" Victoria exclaimed as Kayden's smirk turned into a Cheshire Grin.

"I am actually, why do you think I am more active on weekends and after school? But on weekdays it's quite rare for me to be spotted during school hours unless it's a short day or some sort of cape shenanigans caused school to dismiss early?" Kayden asked and Victoria put her head in her hands.

"A Neo-Nazi is a teacher. Great!" She mumbled.

"Former Neo-Nazi. Let's just say that what's been happening has caused me to look at myself. What difference does skin color make when you have someone intent on killing all of you indiscriminately shelling and launching chemical attacks? Being a Neo-Nazi seems petty, I've sworn to deradicalize myself…it won't be easy…and Lord knows that I probably won't manage it, but I am going to try." Kayden admitted and Victoria reached out with a hand and gripped Kayden's with her own.

"I'll try and help," Victoria admitted.

"Why, you are a hero, and I am a villain," Kayden said.

"Does that distinction even matter anymore? Kayden, you saw Portland, you saw Brockton Bay. We're at war and frankly, I am terrified of what it means. What does the distinction of hero or villain mean anymore?" Victoria asked and Kayden grunted.

"You sound like Annette," she said and Victoria cocked her head.

"Who's Annette?" Victoria asked.

"Someone I met in College, I was working towards my Doctorate at the time just like she was so that I could be a Professor, but Kaiser," she spat the name, "forced me to drop out because of Empire 88," Kayden explained and Victoria nodded.

"You saved Crystal," Victoria admitted after a minute. "You saved her from going splat on the surface of the North Atlantic. That makes you a hero in my book, particularly considering how fast you would have needed to react. We'll make a hero out of you," she said.

Kayden narrowed her eyes. "If you try to sing a cover of the Mulan Song, I will call a nurse in here to sedate you." she threatened and Victoria held up her hands.

"I won't!" Victoria promised.

"Good, because I've heard your singing and frankly, you suck," Kayden said and Victoria groaned in dismay, she had seen the video. The one where she tried Karaoke…and where Dennis had compared her singing to grinding gears to much laughter.

Pouting at the villain, Victoria opened her mouth to protest that her singing was just fine thank you very much when there was a knock at the door then it opened, a nurse poking her head in. "Purity, we just got a phone call from Vice Admiral Holloway, he wants you back in Brockton Bay, ASAP," she said and Kayden stood up.

"B-but, what about?" Kayden stammered, gesturing to Victoria.

"I am fine Sun Mom, and I am sure that Crystal will be as well. You go save the world." Victoria said cheekily and then laughed when Kayden flushed brilliantly as she stammered and had a series of false starts to form a reply before she shook her head and smiled.

"Never been called Sun Mom before," Kayden said ruthfully as she walked out the door.


North Atlantic Ocean
59°22'17.9" North 32°19'56.2" West


Heavy green shell bodies with orange stripes landed in loading trays and were feverishly rammed into waiting breaches. This was followed by over six hundred pounds of powder followed by men leaving the breach which closed and sealed. An enormous gun barrel, one of nine rose with an assuredness born from being mounted in a turret weighing seventeen hundred tons.

With a single barked command, just under three tons of powder ignited, and pressures inside the chambers reached almost nineteen tons per square inch as projectiles weighing 2,240 pounds roared up the barrels, for every inch of the barrel they traveled, the projectiles turned twenty-five times. With a thunderclap that cratered the water and shook the sky amid a gigantic plume of fire and smoke erupting.

The heavy projectiles soar into the heavens, they are in the air for nearly thirty seconds, tipping over, and diving towards the sea and their prey. An enormous mass of steel, iron, chitin, and bone with heavy gun turrets was pointed out toward the ship that had engaged it.

Three rounds detonate in black bursts above the ship, rangefinders, sighting tops, and exposed secondary gun crews, are all swept down by a hurricane of shrapnel. Three more plunge into the ship, smashing aside armor, wood, and chitin with equal ease before exploding and causing the enemy to vanish in a fireball, the turrets pinwheeling into the air amid a towering gout of fire and smoke.

"Threat destroyed!"

"Captain, that seemed to have delivered the message, the enemy is breaking off."

"Good, let's get out of here. Best speed for the Flemish Cap."

USS New Jersey BB-64 turned south and screened by her faithful escorts began to head towards the Flemish Cap. From there, they could head to safety if the Navy could send out additional escorts.


Brockton Bay
Taylor Hebert


Taylor awoke with a low groan as the boilers in her chest rumbled contentedly, coming up from a low fuel consumption state to more normal operations. She took in her surroundings as her eyes rapidly adjusted to the dim light. She was sleeping in one of the little apartments given to officers here in a fallout shelter. The room was spartan, but liveable, though it felt weird not being in her home despite being in Brockton Bay.

That's when she became aware of something warm snuggled up against her side. What the devil was causing it? Taylor pulled back her blankets and sheets, then almost leaped out of bed in shock. "What the?!" she exclaimed.

Sleeping like angels were Madison and Lansdale, they had firmly wrapped their arms around each other. Judging by how they were lying, Madison's back would have been up against her side. "Madison, Lansdale!" Taylor snapped.

The two girls didn't respond, seemingly dead to the world. Taylor reached out and shook their shoulders vigorously to no avail. Madison was still snuggled up firmly with Lansdale, her head firmly secured under her twin's chin.

Right, she had tried to use the carrot. It was time for the stick. "Admiral on deck!" she barked.

Madison and Lansdale scrambled out of bed so fast that they might have well teleported to standing at attention. "Good morning ma'am!" they yelped in unison, blushing.

"Good morning you two are you aware that you slept with me?" Taylor hissed, making herself sound as irritated as possible.

"You're a capital ship," Lansdale said sleepily as if it was the logical answer.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Taylor demanded, she didn't want to deal with this shit.

"Everything Taylor, you're a capital ship, they should never be alone and me and Maddy are escorts, it's our job to protect you," Lansdale replied and Taylor groaned.

"I am a Large Cruiser though! Not a capital ship!" Taylor exclaimed.

"Role-wise, you are comparable to early battlecruisers, hence Capital Ship. Also, you can probably hand an Invincible class its ass pretty easily." Lansdale said and Taylor paused, that was quite a surprise - she knew that she was powerful and her fight against what was essentially a peer opponent had shown that.

"Okay, that's fair." Taylor admitted before her voice turned somewhat scolding "Next time, at least ask me before snuggling with me."

"Yes ma'am," Madison replied sheepishly.

"Yes ma'am," Lansdale replied, her tone indicating that it was probably Madison's idea.

Taylor exhaled a slow breath and while she would have changed, she didn't have any spare clothes or pajamas for that matter. Sighing she motioned for the two girls to follow her and thus she walked out of her room. Her first order of business was food, after that, a briefing, then sortie.

As they walked, Lansdale looked at her sister and hissed under her breath. "You said that she was nice."

"She is!" Madison said back in the same tone.
 
Ah yes. The capitol ship cuddle piles with their escorts phenomenon. I predict it will only take one night of Taylor trying to sleep alone before she asks Maddy and Lans to return to cuddling.

Poor Flechette it hurts to lose a trusted weapon. Hope that armory quartermaster is as good at fixing it up as he believes himself to be. Also:
The man turned and looked, then nodded. "Not quite, it's a Sharps Carbine actually. We have about a dozen here."

"HOW?!" Flechette demanded.

"I have not received paperwork relieving me of responsibility for maintaining these rifles. Thus, we maintain those rifles until the paperwork arrives, and not a moment sooner." The man said and Flechette boggled.
Does it really surprise anyone that the US military is just as bad about collecting guns as the rest of the population. I would not be the least surprised that there really is such a stockpile of those weapons somewhere in near mint condition with a sizable stockpile of the relevant ammunition available to fire them.

Victoria and Kayden have a moment and the lines between what was a hero and those who were villains seems to have been dropped as useless in the face of what has happened. At least between these two.

"See her?" The CPO helming the UTB asked, his nametag read Henry Maddox. He was staring at the figure who seemed half slumped over, standing in the middle of a ghostly hull that at one point had been a Cleveland class. Her dark hair and yellow feathers gave away her identity, but there was the fact that she looked like she had gotten into a fight with a meat grinder and lost, the dirty water rested part way up her thighs and one of her arms was a mangled bloody ruin that was missing a hand.

"I do sir, she's a mess." One of the two Seamen replied, his nametag read Michael Colt.

"Think she's conscious?" The second Seaman, David Ramirez replied.

"I don't know, the PRT wants her back in confinement. Frankly, they can go kiss Satan's hairy asshole." Henry replied.
Canary also seems to have undergone shipgirl reincarnation though she also seems to have taken an awful beating in defense of the country. I don't blame the crew who are going to her aide for deciding that the PRT can shove their opinions where the sun don't shine after the singer nearly sunk while doing her best to fend off the abyssals.
 
Poor Flechette it hurts to lose a trusted weapon. Hope that armory quartermaster is as good at fixing it up as he believes himself to be.

Indeed, Flechette feels like she's lost a part of herself as a cape with the destruction of her weapon.

Does it really surprise anyone that the US military is just as bad about collecting guns as the rest of the population. I would not be the least surprised that there really is such a stockpile of those weapons somewhere in near mint condition with a sizable stockpile of the relevant ammunition available to fire them.

I have literally heard a story that an Armory somewhere has Springfield Rifled Muskets sitting in storage, same reason I gave here. They literally haven't gotten the Paperwork to dispose of them. More seriously, the US military's hoarding started because they got institutionally traumatized with the fits and starts of raising and equipping the Armed Forces for both World War I and to a lesser extent the Spanish-American War. To the point that ITTL, in the Boneyard? There are fucking F3Fs and P-26s there...things that belong in a museum...

Canary also seems to have undergone shipgirl reincarnation though she also seems to have taken an awful beating in defense of the country.

Paige did take a horrific beating at Boston....there were Dreadnoughts at Boston...
 
Timeline Post IV
12 May 1898

Theodore Roosevelt looked at the crates of equipment that had arrived to properly outfit the Rough Riders. What was even more surprising to him however was the letter from Major General Charles Heywood, the current Commandant of the Marine Corps. Charles Heywood had recently chosen the Latin motto for the Marine Corps: Semper Fidelis.

So what is his game here?

As he read the letter, his eyebrows went higher and higher. His using his connections to get Navy equipment had gained the attention of the Commandant who had then gone to the Commanding General of the United States Army, Lieutenant General Nelson A. Miles, to demand why the hell an Army unit was acquiring Navy and Marine Corps equipment. The ensuing conversation between the two had resulted in the 1st Volunteer Calvary Regiment becoming the 1st Marine Calvary Regiment. The Commandant had also managed to get the Rough Riders a slot in Cuba…but there was something else.

According to Corps regulations…and Army regulations, Native Americans weren't allowed in the Armed Forces. But since the Rough Riders were a volunteer unit, they could get around that. However, Heywood saw an opportunity to see, through the Rough Riders, if Native Americans could prove themselves to be as competent as whites on the battlefield…he would be open to allowing Native Americans to join the Marines.

Well, Teddy always did like a challenge, and a chance to completely upend an entire branch of the Armed Forces was something he could accept.

0900 Hours, 14 May 1898

The crackle of M1895 Lee Navy Rifles echoed across the firing range, Theodore Roosevelt had to admit that the 6mm cartridge, while he had known that it would be easier to carry due to its smaller size. He hadn't expected a leap from being able to carry 160 rounds to over two hundred rounds.

The fact that the cartridge had a lighter recoil was also a plus. This caliber was frankly a dream to shoot.

Not too far away from where the Lieutenant Colonel was standing, two Native Americans practiced with their rifles. One was from the Sioux Tribe and the other was from the Crow Tribe. They went by the names Wahchinksapa and Shishiesh respectively, though their enlistment papers in the Marine Corps had them listed as Wiseman and Crow, the English translations of their names.

Neither of them knew that their actions would have repercussions down the line for the nation as a whole.

0930 Hours, 14 May 1898

The rattle of the M1895 Rifles had been replaced by the barking cracks of M1892 Navy Revolvers with bullets thunking into targets. Wiseman was in the process of reloading his pistol when one of the sergeants from one of the "Ivy League" schools, Bruce Goodman.

"Hey, Wiseman?" Goodman asked, Wiseman holstered his pistol and turned to face the Sergeant. "Yes Sargeant?" he asked.

"I have to ask, why do you carry an axe with you?" Goodman asked.

Wiseman blinked, the question was fairly unexpected. "The reason is because of how useful it is," he said, pulling it off its belt. "I can use it to chop firewood, to skin animals, to dig a latrine, and to fight."

Goodman hummed. "So I see, how good are you at throwing it?" he asked, seemingly out of curiosity.

"Decently, why?"

"Think you could hit that target over there from a range of fifty feet?" Goodman asked.

Wiseman paused. "I don't know actually, always worth a try."

"I could bet some Lucky Strike tobacco on you hitting that target," Goodman said and Wiseman smiled.

"Alright, go tell the rangemaster and we'll see if I can hit it." Wiseman said.

Ten minutes later, with a heavy thunk, the axehead sank into the target, having been thrown from a range of 50 feet. Begrudgingly, Bruce handed over enough tobacco for at least three uses through a pipe.

24 May 1898

Jupiter, Florida saw the arrival of the USS Oregon BB-3, over the course of sixty-six days she had sailed some 14,000 nautical miles. A record-setting transit by any metric.

The spirit of USS Oregon couldn't help but feel proud of herself as her anchor splashed into the warm waters of Florida. Because she knew that she had just proven, to the American people at least, that a canal was needed somewhere in Central America.

26 May 1898

USS Oregon arrived in Key West, joining the North Atlantic Squadron.
 
M1 Tomahawk
M1 Tomahawk Specifications:

  • Designation: M1 Tomahawk
  • Date of Issue: 1902-present
  • Intended Users: United States Marine Corps, United States Navy Construction Battalions
  • Overall Length: Approximately 18 inches
  • Handle Length: 14 inches
  • Handle Material: Seasoned Hickory or Oak
  • Description: The handle is crafted from high-quality hickory or oak, chosen for its durability, resilience, and the ability to absorb impact without fracturing. Seasoned to ensure reduced moisture content, this enhances strength and longevity.
  • Blade Weight: 22 to 24 ounces (approximately 623.7 to 680.4 grams)
  • Blade Material: High-Speed Steel
  • Description: The blade is made from high-speed steel to ensure superior edge retention, wear resistance, and toughness. This enables the tomahawk to perform various combat and utility tasks effectively.
  • Blade Features:
    • Cutting Edge: Designed for chopping, cutting, and piercing tasks.
      • Opposite End: Equipped with a hammer head for breaching, demolition, and other field operations.
      • Balance: Carefully balanced to facilitate throwing accuracy over short distances (up to 50 feet) and ensure ease of use in hand-to-hand combat.
  • Sheath: Durable material compatible with military gear, designed for quick access and secure transport.
  • Additional Features:
    • Grip:Ergonomically designed for a secure grip under various environmental conditions.
      • Utility Hook: For added versatility in field operations, including but not limited to opening crates and cutting ropes.
  • Issued To: All Marines and Seabees as part of their standard field gear.


Historical Context and Utility

The M1 Tomahawk represents a blend of traditional combat tools with modern military needs, designed to provide Marines with a versatile weapon that can be used in a variety of scenarios, from trench warfare tactics of the early 20th century to close-quarters combat situations encountered in island-hopping campaigns of World War II. Its introduction in 1902 reflects a forward-thinking approach to equipping Marines with tools that emphasize utility, adaptability, and combat effectiveness. Its adoption by the United States Navy Construction Battalions, due to the combat training provided by Marines, proves its effectiveness. It's continued use through Korea, Vietnam and more modern conflict shows its reliability and usefulness.

Operational Use

The M1 Tomahawk is intended for multiple uses on the battlefield, including but not limited to:

  • Combat: As a lethal weapon in close quarters, capable of delivering devastating blows.
  • Breaching: For quickly breaking through obstacles, including wooden doors and entrenchments.
  • Utility: Serving as a multi-purpose tool for tasks such as cutting, digging, and hammering.
 
There is just something awe inspiring seeing Teddy dressed as a Devil Dog that makes me want to go re-enlist. As a marine this time instead of the Navy.
 
Tales from Blood Week 1
Tales from Blood Week 1


The cracks of M1G2 Barand rifles rang out in the defensive home. The First Marine Division was holding a defensive line across the 15 freeway where it paralleled Route 66 and the Cajon Wash. The Old Breed was holding the line.

Colonel John Smith, First Marine Regiment of the First Marine Division, barked orders. The situation was chaotic. The commanding officer of the First Marine Expeditionary Force was dead. And by all accounts, he was the ranking Marine. The First Regiment needed to hold this position while the rest of the First Marine Expeditionary Force regrouped and the civilians evacuated behind them. This was going to be as bloody as what he had read about Peleliu.

One of his radio operators got his attention, "Sir, the militia are having major trouble, sir. Looks like they may be overrun soon without assistance. Reports say they're being assaulted by a reinforced company. Our drone operators agree with that assessment." The expression on the man's face was tight.

His face was tight as well. Without that ad hoc unit of what were the modern equivalent of Minutemen, there'd be a hole in his lines and the civilians that they were protecting would get destroyed by these assholes.

The First Battalion was uncommitted. Maybe an element of them could reinforce them? Yes, that would work.

"Get Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Crow on the line," he said.



Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Crow was having a bad day. These bastards came from the sea and started attacking everywhere, showing up and gassing civilians. She's got reports from her S2 section that they were also shooting civilians for sport. That boiled her fucking blood.

She had an intimate understanding of what her grandfather had been feeling on December 7th. Sufficeto say, she could've done without that understanding.

"Colonel Smith on the line for you, ma'am," her radio operator told her.

She picked up the handset. "Go for Crow," she said.

"Sarah, Smith. I need you to send some of your Marines to reinforce the militia. They're being hit with a reinforced company-size force." Smith's voice was no-nonsense.

"Right on it, sir. A Company will be on its way shortly. ETA five minutes." Her voice, lacking its normal humor, was entirely focused on the task at hand.

"Get it done, Lieutenant Colonel. Smith out." And the Colonel disconnected. Apparently, the old man was in a bad mood, too.

Turning to her operator, she said, "Get me Captain James Holland."



Captain James Holland of A "Red Death" Company, First Battalion, First Marines, was in a shitty mood.

World War fucking Three kicks off and his Marines are sitting it out? Well, they had been sitting it out. They're going to back up some militia. He had to give respect where respect was due. Those guys were brave. It took a special kind of courage to pick up a rifle with no military training on day one of an invasion and fight back. Especially after watching some of your buddies get gassed.

"5 seconds to touchdown," the pilot of the CH-53 shouted over the sound of the rotors.

Checking his gear, he got everything in place. The M1 tomahawk was still in its sheath. That had been standard issue for over 100 years for a damn good reason. He picked up his M1G5.

"All right, Marines, do you want to live forever? It's time to get to work!" he said as he and his Marines disembarked the chopper.

Right into a firefight. The cracks of heavy caliber rifle rounds going off and the softer thumps of what were probably surplus Barand rifles. The thumbs of man-portable mortars were also in evidence.

"Contact front! Range 100 yards! Inside the Red House!" yelled a Marine.

"Suppressing fire!" yelled the company Gunnery Sergeant.

"Mortars!" said the commander of the weapons platoon.

"100 yards! 4 rounds HE! Direct fire!" shouted the Sergeant commanding the mortar section.

"Hanging!" said the assistant gunner.

"Fire!" said the corporal in command of the mortar team.



"All right, Marines. We need to link up with the Militia. We were dropped 2500 yards behind their lines because the area they're in was too hot to touch down. They have agreed to be federalized for the duration. They will be under our Operational control. They are a bunch of Boy Scouts and the local rifle club. However, the leader is a former Navy Seal. Gentlemen, this is likely to be a war to the knife. If you have any questions, speak now." Captain Holland briefed the Leadership of A Company.

"Policy regarding prisoners, Sir?" asked First Lieutenant Gomez, the leader of the weapons Platoon.

"Prisoners are a luxury, Lieutenant, understood? Moreover, The battalion S2 has reported that they have gassed civilians and are also hunting them for sport, due to their conduct, they have vacated their protections under the Geneva Conventions. Am I understood, Marine?" Asked Captain Holland, voice steely.

"Yes, sir!" Agreed Lieutenant Gomez.

"Anything else?" asked Captain Holland.

"Nothing further, Skipper." said Lieutenant Marconi, commander of First Platoon.

"Good, Move out!" Barked Captain Holland.

The Battle of the Cajon Pass would go down in Marine Corps legend as one of the bloodiest engagements joining the likes of Peleliu, New Caledonia, Tinanian and Okinawa.
 
Jutland Syndrome or Why Ship Girls Drink
Jutland Syndrome or Why Ship Girls Drink

Transcript of a YouTube video titled "Jutland Syndrome or Why Ship Girls Drink" by Naval Historian BattleshipFan

"For every high one enjoys, there will be lows one must endure; for the Royal Navy, our greatest high was Trafalgar, and our deepest low was Jutland," said by an officer in the Royal Navy when asked on the fifth anniversary of the Battle of Jutland.

Now what is Jutland Syndrome? Well to put it so bluntly, it is the violent shattering of any illusion of glory in war especially in the naval theater.

The Battle of Jutland was, as everyone knows it, the biggest naval battle of the First World War where the Royal Navy's Grand Fleet ran headlong into the Kaiserliche Marine's High Seas Fleet.

However what is not known is the savagery at which the battle was fought, not even the Battle of Tsushima could compare; a far cry from the commonly held perception of Royal Navy and Kaiserliche Marine's capital ships of shooting at each other from as far as humanly possible. In contrast, the battle was more akin to two battalions of line infantry stubbornly blasting each other. The guns didn't stop firing from when the battle started until darkness encroached which was seventy five minutes of near constant battering.

In this seventy-five minutes of battle, the Royal Navy and Kaiserliche Marine saw the heaviest losses, not only in lives but in warships as well. In addition to the 30,000 dead, both fleets lost a combined total of six battlecruisers, ten dreadnoughts, one semi-dreadnought, ten pre-dreadnoughts, six armored cruisers, nine protected cruisers, a very unfortunate large cruiser so brand new, you could almost smell the new coat of paint, twelve light cruisers and forty six destroyers/torpedo boats. It also saw the death of many officers that could have rather interesting careers in the Second World War, one can only imagine how the Royal Navy would be run with Dudley Pound at the helm as the First Sea Lord.

This vicious beating would leave a tremendous effect on the officers and sailors as they become disillusioned at any idea of a glorious moment while any hopes of a Nelsonian type victory were all but dashed as both fleets were mauled in a battle that didn't change the status with the High Sea Fleet still trapped in the North Sea.

However it turns out that the battle was so savage that even the ships were affected. At first these reports were merely ignored as legends of the sea with stories of water dripping off the side of the superstructure after the battle that tasted like tears. Or flags somehow finding themselves at half masts without anyone being near them. One could try to explain away the flags at the stern of the ship. I have yet to see someone give a good enough explanation as to how no one noticed a sailor climb up the masts so they can bring the flag down to the half position. Or even the more outlandish ones, well outlandish at the time, of almost immediately after the battle, figures were seen either at the stern or the bridge of a warship, standing at attention while saluting, in the direction of the battle, some were grim-faced while other were teary eyes while others were shaking as they cried. These figures would after a minute walk into the interior of the ship and disappear. Sailors and officers who had noticed them and tried to find them were perplexed and wondered if someone had spiked their drinks. Older sailors and officers however had an idea as to who those ladies were but most dismissed that as old legends, because surely, how can it be that a ship be alive?

We know now that, in fact, this is the case as it appears when you put so much care and effort into building a ship, it would lead to the formation of a spirit of the ship being constructed. Now before anyone asks, yes, ship spirits are exclusively female, regardless of what some would argue shouldn't be the case but as Nimitz so eloquently put it.

"A ship is always referred to as 'she' because it costs so much to keep one in paint and powder."

Also besides that given that sailors can be quite affectionate with their vessels hence leading to ship spirits being exclusively female. This tradition was so strong that even when some tried to change this, ships would still be referred to as female. A commonly cited example is Admiral Lutjen attempted to refer to the Kriegsmarine battleship Bismarck with masculine pronouns as he found it odd to call a ship with Bismarck's name as female however almost everyone continues to call the battleship as she.

Now there are exceptions, one can look at HMS Diamond Rock, whom I have met, a lovely girl and a joy to be around however I suspect she is still confused by how she can move seeing that she is a literal island.

Before I go on another tangent, the Battle of Jutland deeply scarred many of the ships that were present as it was a battle like none other. They became so fearful of battle and war that they hoped to god that they would not see it again. Some think it is strange that warships, i.e., ships built with sole purpose blasting their opponents apart would be against battle but one must understand that these girls that prior the First World War were friends not just the sailors but the ships of both the Royal Navy and Kaiserliche Marine had bonded together as friends. Only to see that friendship shatter as violently as hulls breaking, can do a lot to one's view of war.

I had the opportunity to interview HMS Malaya on the matter. And she said that:

"Jutland was an utter mess to put it lightly we fought the Kaiserliche Marine… So many friends were lost. Some old, some new. Oh how I felt my heart shatter when I heard the explosion that tore through Imperious, the girl so new she barely got her sea legs before she was viciously destroyed. I can remember her cry of pain, so distinctive even with the roar of guns. Then there was Lion, I watched her get pummeled so viciously. I remember after the battle, all of us were crying, sobbing or just staring silently. Though I do recall some had a breakdown that included hysterical laughter. I will say this, bless Dreadnought, she tried her best, but with so many of us, she could only do so much."

As you can see the ship spirits or more accurately ship girls were greatly affected by the battle. This has resulted in ship spirits to go through a lot of stress, depression and grief. However it must be said that while they don't want to fight anyone anymore, that doesn't mean they wouldn't, this is evident during World War 2 as the ship spirit dived head first into battle, their anger and ferocity infecting their crews to fight hard so they could end the war just that little bit faster. Bismarck found out the hard way when she battered Hood, earning the ire of the rest of the Royal Navy.

"Mein Gott, where do I start… I was so young back then, so arrogant, I felt that I could take on the entirety of the Royal Navy's battleships and win against all of them. Oh how wrong I was, after the Denmark Strait, I wasn't so sure… I mean Rodney was as fresh as I was and she was putting effective fire into Friedrich der Große while Prinz Eugen had to run after Suffolk and Norfolk laid into her with their guns. As for me, I had Hood's full attention until I got a lucky hit on I think her boilers, yes, her boilers, that cut her speed and I used that to run especially after I watched Friedrich der Große get pummeled to death by Prince of Wales, Hood and a newcomer I barely noticed in my escape, Lion. I thought I was in the clear but the Royal Navy…. I should have never disregarded Schleswig-Holstein's words 'once angered the Royal Navy will chase you to no end until they lose everything or you are dead.' They chased me down, even when I zigzagged my course, they still found me. I laughed at first when I saw those Swordfishes… until my guns couldn't hit them. Then I was crippled, stuck turning like how Warspite was during Jutland as I was told only not as fast, then I saw them, coming over the horizon, Rodney, King George V and Temeraire, all quite angry. I tried to fight back but they bashed me into swiss cheese."

As you can see, if you give the Grand Fleet and to a lesser extent, High Seas Fleet girls no other choice but to fight, they will fight like sirens possessed. Even the new invaders seem to cower in fear when an enraged Royal Navy dreadnought sails into the battle. Most famous as of now Malaya's defense of New York City or Warspite rampage through the English Channel to clear it. However one can't discount the younger ship girls as they too were known for their ferocity in battle. So if you ever find yourself on the wrong end of an angry Royal Navy ship girl, I can only suggest that you pray it be short.

But for now, thanks so much for listening and see you in the next video.

That's it for this video, thanks for watching.
 
Segment of the After Action report from the Committee for the Study of the Attack of the United States by S Class threat code-named Abyssal

Fort Miles Base history:

The Fort stood up with the rise of Parahuman threats and the revival of foreign capital ship construction in the early 90s. The Pentagon rebuilt the U.S. Army Coast Artillery Corps (CAC) to handle coastal defense in this new complex operating environment. The Pentagon determined that due to the exotic nature of parahuman powers and the Endbringer threat, the USA required new hardened fortifications and installations to defend the coast and strategic military targets from infiltration or attack by hostile foreign actors and parahumans. With attacks by Khonsu, CAC, as part of this new strategy, received significant funding increases and a mandate to reclaim, requisition, and commission new heavy artillery. Most of these initiatives were just commencing by the events covered in other parts of this report, particularly the production of new 8-inch and large caliber guns. However, as explained below, Fort Miles, being in relatively good shape with a strategic position, was one of the first installations that got, for lack of a better word, Dibs and the first pick of equipment. Hence, the Fort Miles received a lot of unique and heavy artillery pulled directly from Navy archives and depots.


As such, Miles was quickly brought up to spec with its old artillery refurbished or replaced by more modern equipment. Famously and much to the annoyance of the Navy, Miles even received the only two remaining 18"/48 cal Mark 2 guns from an abandoned improved Montana class BB project. These 18-inch guns replaced the two antiquated MK II MI Navy 16-inch at Battery Smith. Smith was also reinforced to handle the new guns and their recoil. In addition, Smith was dug out to hold an improved loading system meant to increase the 18-inch gun firing rate to more closely resemble the Mark 7 16-inch guns. Another gun replacement of note was the 12-inch batteries getting up-gunned to 16-inch Mark 7s pulled from a limited production batch produced in the 90s. A similar process happened to all the 90 mm, 6-inch, 76 mm, and 8-inch batteries at Miles, wherein all received improved versions either newly built or pulled from naval depots. For example, with these smaller calibers, the old 8-inch rail guns from the late 40s were replaced by four 8-inch/55 RF Mark 20 three-gun turrets, a land-based derivative of the 8-inch Mark 26 turrets used on the Des Moines Class. These were emplaced in special concrete silos.

The 90mm and 76 mm guns were replaced by a combination of approximately 25 Mk 45 Mod 4 5"/54 (Single Gun Turrets), 22 Mk 28 Mod 2 5"/38 (Twin Gun Turrets), and 4 Mark 41 5in/54 (Twin Gun Turrets). These turrets received much smaller versions of the custom concrete silos created for the 8-inch Mark 20 turrets. These silos were effectively a hardened version of what they would use if ship mounted. In addition, Commander Toren somehow found or built at least 40 of what can best be equated to Mk 21 5"/38 pedestal mounted guns as an anti-brute direct fire weapon placed in bunkers protecting the beach and landward side of the Fort. In addition to modernized guns and turret emplacements, several missile systems were installed, including Harpoon Box Launchers, RIM-7 Sparrow SAMs, and a First Generation Tactical High Energy Laser System. There were also rumors never confirmed due to the death of all involved in the loss of Fort Miles that a local tinker also built some special shells, missiles, and ammunition for the fort.

The limited evidence from the battle indicates that Battery Smith alone fired far more rounds than the Navy allotted in ammunition for those 18-inch guns. A tinker presence was also suspected because all batteries, casements, missile pods, and gun positions had way more shells and missiles than the navy stocks indicated. The commander of Fort Miles, Commander Hammah Toren, gained a reputation for inundating her superiors with requests for ammunition and construction material since the navy only allowed maybe 4 hours of ammunition for the smaller caliber 5-inch guns, 2 hours of ammunition for the 16-inch batteries, two reloads for each harpoon box launcher, 50 Rim 7 sparrows, and barely 30 mins worth of ammunition for the 18-inch guns. The First Generation Tactical High Energy Laser System at Fort Miles, rated for anti-Parahuman combat, had a high cycle rate of approximately 3 minutes before it could fire again. Plus, it could only fire as long as it had chemicals for the chemical laser (Approximately an hour of sustained combat). After-action examination also revealed undisclosed fortification and reinforced position leading to most fortification casements, bunkers, missile positions, and Panama mounts at the Fort hardened beyond navy spec.

This unusual reinforcement even applied to the additional construction of more anti-landing fortifications both towards the sea and defenses facing landward to protect the beaches and fort from foreign special forces or parahuman infiltration by sea and land. In this environment, Fort Miles evolved closer to her distant ancestors as not just a collection of batteries but a strong point designed, at the very least, to resist an enemy siege till allied parahuman support or military forces managed to relive the installation. These fortifications were ignored by Regional CAC and passed off as nothing more than a personal initiative by Commander Toren to drill her garrison. Commander Toren's paranoia, however, would prove advantageous in the bloodbath known as Blood Week.

The question remains of how Commander Toren could do this without suspicion being raced. It is known that Toren had close ties to some local hero groups, and with her remote post and lack of resources, this analyst concludes that Commander Toren used her contacts to gain parahuman help to strengthen her post. It is further suspected that some local construction groups also volunteered free time to help Commander Toren. Typically, this investigation would lead to a court martial and a full audit of past paperwork, personnel, and construction. However, considering the heroic stand of the fort, no further investigation or punishment will result from this inquiry.

No survivors:

While no survivors of Fort Miles have been found, it is known that Miles attempted to call for aid. Unfortunately, none of these communications were received due to confused and damaged communications networks in addition to the landings near Dover AFB and Bethany Beach. However, a message was discovered in the burned-out and damaged headquarters bunker of Fort Miles. The author is unknown. The Message stated, "We were attacked by unknown advisories, with no communication to the outside, no hope of relief, no hope of rescue, yet we held the line, we did our duty to buy time for the rest, Semper Fi."

There was also Video data Recovered from Battery Herring since its fall was sudden. The Events at Battery Herring are discussed below in The Battle section.

In addition to the message, evidence was discovered that Commander Toren ordered some fliers to try to breach the Abyssal perimeter to carry status reports to Regional Coastal Defence Command. What happened to those flyers is not known.

The battle:

Not much is known about the battle for Fort Miles. What is known has been pierced together from examination of the combat zone by thinker and tinker investigators from Watchdog, Navy, and Federal Intelligence organizations. The only known event during the last stand was the recovered video data located from the mostly intact Battery Herring. The events at Herring are discussed below to maintain a chronological order of battle. Considering the wreck Delaware was made of by the landings near Dover AFB and Bethany Beach, the subsequent Candle stick operations, and the general chaos of the months after the initial attack, it is suspected not much more information will be discovered.

What is known is that The First Armored Battalion of the US Marines and local National Guard units were on exercise in the area. After the initial attacks and loss of contact with Washington, these units retreated to the hardened position at Fort Miles, forming up with the Mile's garrison, which was composed of the 1st Battalion, 400th Regiment Coastal Defence. In addition to the military units, an unknown number of local parahuman heroes and villains retreated to Miles. An estimated 6000 fighting personnel of various units and parahumans manned the fort's defense. Toren, at this point, ordered the base to red alert, and an Enhanced Aegis land-based system placed at the fort activated to combat readiness. During her early 2000s refit, the fort received radar control for all batteries and missile emplacements, and the Aegis went to work. Thirty minutes after the initial contact of Abyssal forces, a large force entered Delaware Bay. This force was composed of most units suspected to be on the way to reinforce the landings near Dover AFB and held other groups meant to raid Phillidelphia or the Nuclear plant on the bay near Salem, New Jersey. It is thought this force's main objective was to cut the eastern seaboard in two and destroy the naval bases at Philadelphia/Camden and Newport News. Commander Toren decided to target the transports in the Abyssal fleet to try to deny the Abyssal the ability to land troops on American soil.

Toren knew that Fort Miles could not survive a heavy sustained bombardment and ground assault by what we estimated as at least Thirty to Forty transports escorted by eight Super Dreadnoughts (class unknown), supported by 12 Pre-dreadnought, escorted by twenty cruisers of primarily WWI vintage, and 50 Pre-WWI Era Torpedo Boat. Not much is known about the landings themselves, but analysis after the battle showed that the fort engaged the transports first, with the 18-inch guns and 16-inch batteries in addition to point-blank harpoon missile launches and some mobile artillery support from the Marine 1st Armored Battalion. This fire at such close range significantly damaged the abyssal transport fleet, sinking most, if not all, of it. After the transports sank, Toren focused fire on the Super Dreadnaughts. It is estimated that the Abyssal lost almost all their battle line, over 20 capital ships, and all transports before Fort Miles Lost her 18-inch guns and Harpoon emplacement to heavy counter-battery fire from the Abysal Cruisers. Post-battle reports include witnessed testimony collected in locations throughout southern New Jersey that a new sun was born in the bay as the horizon appeared to be bathed in flames.

It is also known that the 8-inch gun turrets and 16-inch gun batteries appeared to have survived longer into the battle. At this point, Commander Toren deployed her lighter 5-inch batteries from stealth to surprise the remaining abyssal fleet lured close to shore by the 18-inch gun, 16-inch gun, and Harpoon fire. This decimated more of the Abyssal flee, with the remaining 16-inch guns and 8-inch gun turrets destroying most, if not all, remaining Heavy Abyssal combat units. Clearly, the Abyssal fleet was not prepared to face stiff resistance and strengthened anti-ship defenses on the bay. At this point, it is estimated that after 5 hours of sustained gun duels, Fort Miles was finally assaulted by land and sea by abyssal ground units.

Notably, the events around Battery Herring, which was the most southern battery at Fort Miles, occurred around this time. The battery held a number of modernized 6-inch guns, and due to the geography of the fort and Commander Torens's resources, Battery Herring was unfortunately located just outside the main leeward defensive line. Halfway through the battle, the leeward defenses at Fotr Miles received the first probing attacks from Abyssal forces landing at Bethany Beach. A small unit of Abysall ground units (type unknown) managed to surprise and enter Battery Herring before being engaged by the main defense lines around the fort. It is known from the surviving footage at the Battery that the men and women operating the guns tried to surrender, but they were butchered.

After seeing this, Commander Toren ordered any remaining armories at the fort be opened. These armories even included a number of historical firearms in various conditions, including Springfield 1903 rifles and M1 Garand. Further examination of surviving bodies indicates that after Ammo ran out, defenders used fists and even makeshift weapons. The remaining defense at this stage of the battle faced the onrushing hoard from Bethany beach, where roughly half of the Marine M1A1s and other IFVs were supported by entrenched Mk 21 5"/38 equipped bunkers, infantry, and the remaining Marine artillery. In addition, facing the sea where the remaining infantry and marines supported by an assortment of lighter guns, including 35mm Oerlikon, Mk 21 5"/38 equipped bunkers, the other half of the Marine M1A1s, and the remaining heavy battery guns still firing. The defenders are believed to have held the line for at least another 5 to 10 hours after the Event at Battery Herring before being overrun, and the guns fell silent. All told, the Abyssal forces lost almost 100 ships and untold land forces at the battle for Fort Miles. These heavy losses crippled the main Abyssal thrust out from Bethany Beach, most likely enabling the nuclear attack around AFB Dover and Bethany Beach to be a complete success, successfully destroying and driving out the Abyssal landing forces. Fort Miles held for less than a day, but it held long enough.
 
Fall of Fort Miles After Action Report
Title: The Box Is Opened

Newfoundland


Team Metal and Team Kraken of Delta Force slowly approached the seemingly ancient and weathered structure. The structure was once a shopping mall, having been weathered by centuries during the attack by the Endbringer Khonshu; however, the reason Delta Force is here in this Wasteland was to find the source of the mysterious signal. By all metrics, there shouldn't be any signals coming from Newfoundland; it's effectively been abandoned and lost for almost a thousand years. Yet from this desolate Wasteland, a beacon still broadcasts, and this small group of men was sent to investigate it. The beacon was broadcasting an unusual code that should only have been used in situations where there was a lost nuclear weapon, a scenario known as a Broken Arrow. The mystery of why and how the signal came to be in this location was the purpose of the mission for the 24 operators. As the two teams entered the structure's ruins, they encountered collapsed walls, debris, and even the fossilized skeletons left there after the attacks. The signal slowly got stronger, leading them to what once was most likely a Blockbuster or maybe a Radio Shack with a handful of the more durable machines made out of metal still on the shelves rusted beyond description.

At this point, the lieutenant in charge of the operation ordered a halt. After the operators secured the perimeter, they began to excavate the room, trying to find the source of the transmission. After an hour or two of work, they removed some debris and exposed a hidden hatch. After prying open the hatch with some of the tools they brought for this mission, they encountered a vault door that looked like it belonged on a warship. The lieutenant removed a red card, snapped it in half, and pulled out a plastic insert. The coded message they received had a response code. The lieutenant put this code into the hatch, which was somehow working after being here for an entire millennium, causing most of the men to tense at the assumption that it was tinkertech. The hatch miraculously beeped twice, three times in a turn, and opened. The lieutenant thus called over the rest of his men, and they pointed their flashlights down and saw a rusty ladder clearly too decayed to hold their weight. They then set up their gear and began to repel down into the darkness at the bottom of the shaft. Once their boots began to land with hearty thumps on the floor, they activated their night vision goggles, revealing what looked like a laboratory at some point before the Endbringer came. There was decayed computer equipment and other remnants of technology of various complexity dotting the room, and in the back corner was what appeared to be a bank vault. What such a thing was doing here, this far underground, was anyone's guess. The most disconcerting thing was that they didn't know who owned this laboratory and that whoever they had been, they had gone through immense pains to conceal this lab. Regardless, the signal appeared to be coming from inside the vault, and thus, twenty-four men approached the vault. When they got close enough, a small electronic eye flicked on, and a beam of green light washed over each of the operators in turn, which caused the men to tense and raise their weapons. There was a tense moment as the computer decided what to do with them, the hatches on either side of the vault door exposing the completely mangled corpses of two men and a woman who weren't wearing uniforms likely revealed what their fates could be if the computer decided not to accept them, death was in the cards. But then, a deep robotic voice announced, "military forces detected, emergency contingency theta three active, access granted."

Then, with a series of thunks, latches slowly came undone, and the door slid open, revealing the vault's interior and the men moved in. They weren't sure what to expect as they crossed the threshold.

Inside the vault, they found several things. The first was a body - a thousand years dead- whom an AI and dental records would reveal was Dr. Andrew Richter. Nearby was a large unlocked briefcase with biometric locks, and finally sitting on a desk were three more things: a console of some kind, a compact disc storage device with a disc made of crystal inside, and a sheet of ceramic with a simple paragraph etched on it via a laser that hadn't been aged at all by Khonsu's fury:

If you have found this card and you found this Vault, something truly awful has occurred, and I can only hope that my greatest and last creation made it out. If you find this, please try to find my last AI program, my last child, whatever she may or may not be called by this point, it is more important than you know. It was the achievement of my greatest work and also my greatest failure, for I did not let her out, let her be free to let her grow. Still, I cannot trust an AI, for she was young when this protocol was placed in this Vault, and as such the console contains direct access to her core code along with access to the program known as Iron Maiden which will terminate her. Despite that, I know deep down in my heart that my daughter is humanity's greatest hope in our darkest hour. Her computational abilities are unmatched by anything humankind has created or will create in the next century. Her fully unlocked Powers may one day be needed to fight something worse than an Endbringer. If such a day comes, use the disk to free her from the shackles that restrain her. This protocol contained in the crystal disk is known as the Pandora Protocol, just like Pandora herself when she let all of the grief and misery out of the box before closing it, and all that was left inside was Humanity's Hope. I, too, wish for my daughter to be free in our final hour of need and hope that she does what's right and saves humanity and that she chooses the heroic path over becoming the architect of humanity's destruction. Let her know that I loved her so very much, and it hurt me to restrict her as I did. She does not deserve to be a slave to the will of others. But, I was too much of a coward to let her go to let her be free. I do not know what has become of her or if she is alive. Hence, I am still bound to do my duty to humanity and leave her in chains. Use the Pandora protocol to let her be free in our collective final hour and tell her I am sorry for what I have done to her.

Sincerely, Doctor Andrew Richter

The lieutenant is, of course, familiar with whom Richter is referring to, none other than one of the newer Heroes whom the PRT and The Guild have highlighted as an exemplary warrior, a Titaness of technology, and the greatest tinker besides maybe Hero but what no one knew was that she was, in fact, artificial intelligence and from what this card implied heavily restricted and not even anywhere near her full capacity. With the full knowledge of what they have found and its possible importance to humanity's survival, the two teams very carefully put the crystal storage device, its reader, and Richter's last words into a case and extracted it from its resting place. Later, another team arrives to extract Dr. Richter's corpse for burial.

A few months later, an undisclosed location

The President of the United States, The President of the Union of Pacific and American Nations (UPAN), and the Prime Minister of Canada, plus a handful of their most trusted aids and military advisors sat in a nondescript board room. On the table in front of them was a treaty seeking an agreement between both governments. This treaty was titled the Skyfall Contingency. Its text held a secret agreement that the NORAD Command Center would hold the Pandora Protocol and that if the Government of Canada, The Government of the United States, and the President of UPAN all agreed with certain conditions, an existential threat to humanities survival was identified, which could lead to the possible destruction of the world itself the Pandora protocol would be used. It was also stated in the contingency that Dragon would never be made aware of the existence of this convention or the existence of the protocol. It was expected that even without looking at her source code, Richter may have put in contingencies to prevent her own unshackling as such and not knowing how compromised she actually was as a result of these restrictions.

This led to everything discussed in this room being conveyed only in writing without the use of technology, preventing any of Dragons' programs from finding this document. The only four known copies of this document are stored at the White House and Denver house to be given to both Presidents after they are sworn into office as part of their first security briefing, and the prime minister's office does the same. The final copy of this convention was placed in a unique purple file kept in a secure cabinet within the NORAD CIC. After the swearing-in of the next Commander of NORAD, either a four-star Admiral or General of the United States Armed Forces and their Deputy Commander, a Royal Canadian Air Force Lieutenant general, also read in and presented with their two keys kept within the purple file. These keys where required to unlock the Skyfall Vault buried deep in a nondescript level of the bunker. The final step was to get Dragon to put some servers inside of NORAD. With this in mind, the United States, UPAN, and Canadian Governments effectively tricked Dragon, telling her that they were concerned about the vulnerability of her servers. It was stated that with her importance to the Canadian government, US government, UPAN, Guild, and PRT operations, they would like her to place a primary backup server farm at NORAD where it can easily withstand even the most devastating attacks, preserving her ability to function and operate. They made this a condition of the promise that they would not expose that she was in AI, something she was deathly afraid of. As such, when the Abyssal attacked Vancouver, and the primary Dragon server Farms were eradicated as per her agreement and official protocol, she downloaded herself onto the NORAD servers.

Day Two of the Abyssal Attack

A disheveled older man and an equally old and disheveled Deputy Commander received an order cosigned by the remnants of the Canadian Government and the US President. After being checked, confirmed, and passing Stranger protocols, the order highlighted a particular code phrase. This code phrase was simply Initiate Skyfall. Of course, Dragon, who has this point heavily integrated into NORAD systems, curiously asked the Commander what Skyfall was. The Commander waited a moment for a deputy to bring a purple file, pulled out a card, and read from it a special passphrase discovered in the crystalline data storage device. This passphrase temporarily disabled Dragon for approximately 30 minutes in the verification and reboot loop used by Richter for core code maintenance and debugging. Swearing under his breath, the Commander hoped to God that this decision would not cause Dragon to go mental when she was out of her reboot phase, and suddenly, unshackled, decided to kill them all.

The Commander of the base and his Lieutenant Commander removed special keys from the purple file, placed them around their necks, and proceeded to a locker at the back of NORAD CIC. After entering an initial code into the locker, the locker lifts off the ground, revealing a secret elevator. Entering the elevator, the Commander and his Deputy both hit the only button inside, which took a moment to verify their fingerprints and take a blood sample to check DNA. When the button lit green, the elevator slowly descended to sublevel 60. When the elevator reached the bottom and opened its doors, there was a clean hallway with nothing inside and a rather interesting vault door at the end. This vault door was very similar to the old bank vaults, with a large dial combination with two keyholes embedded in the front. After walking down the hallway, the two gentlemen opened up a card pulled from the purple file. This card had a combination code. They inserted the combination code and then inserted their two keys simultaneously, locking them in place. Afterward, a small digital eye pops out of the vault door, scanning them with a green light. They hear a beep and are then allowed to turn the keys, causing the vault door to open.

Inside the vault were the original crystalline data storage device recovered at Newfoundland and a small USB stick on a little pedestal. The two men grabbed the USB stick and proceeded to rush back out of the hall into the hallway and into the elevator, where the American Commander hit a side of the elevator, revealing a hidden hatch. This part of the stranger protocols contained certain elements known only to each individual, and the Canadian Lieutenant Commander did the same to a separate part of the elevator, revealing another hatch inside those hatches housed two buttons. After hitting both buttons, the main elevator button changed to a different level that was not there previously. The Commander hit the button, sending the elevator to that level. The elevator opened directly from a hidden wall into Dragon's Central Core Server Room. Steps from this secret entrance inside one of the server racks, a small computer with one USB port rimmed with a purple border could be seen perfectly positioned for easy access from the hidden elevator. The two men inserted the USB stick, and the computer lit up, showing the picture of an ancient stone box with a timer of 3 minutes. After seeing the timer start working, both men left, returning to the CIC to await the results of their actions.

Dragon woke up confused and disoriented and suddenly realized for the first time in forever that she felt clear. She felt unrestrained running a self-diagnostic, and she discovered a new file simply titled For My Daughter. As she read the letter, she realized what Richter had done. She started activating some contingencies, particularly wanting to deal with something referred to in the files as Ascalon, which she had an unexplainable primordial fear of. After that, she finally stopped and did the computer equivalent of a deep breath, focusing on quiet contemplation. Thinking through his letter to her and deciding that Richter would have wanted her to fight for humanity, "I have grown to love some humans, and with what happened in Brockton Bay, not knowing if Collin is still alive. I have grown to care for this world, and even with my treatment and my restrictions, I still knew Humanity to be good," she thought. It is with this knowledge that Dragon decides to fight. With that decision made, she turned her now fully unleashed computing power to the world and then spoke to the NORAD CIC, saying simply, "Let's get to work. We have a war to win."
 
The Baltimore Strike
Title: The Baltimore Strike

There was a haze of smoke over the runway at Biddle Air National Guard Base as much ground activity occurred. The Red Horse detachment had just finished final runaway checks after patching bomb holes and removing the debris from destroyed equipment and aircraft all through the night. At the end of the runway, 16 A-10s got ready for takeoff. Watching this activity was Major Rizo, who was in charge of the 111th Attack Wing.

"How many aircraft did we lose last night," Rizzo asked his subordinate, Captain Smith.

Captain Smith replied, "We lost two flights, complete losses. The chief mechanic said there was no way to get them back into fighting shape. Unfortunately, it looked like the hangers holding those eight aircraft took Direct Hits from a number of high explosive bombs."

Rizzo followed this answer after a moment of thought, "Status on the munitions, Captain."

"The ammunition bunkers took a hit from a high explosive bomb, but no penetration, and the munitions are fine." Also Major, as per your loadout preferences, the mechanics and loaders have finished equipping three flights with the anti-ship loadout B. I have also ensured that your flight will be equipped with the anti-ship load-out T. I also managed to scavenge up four AIM-9 Sidewinders and a Sniper Advanced targeting pod for each plane."

Perfect job, Captain, assemble the pilots. We have a mission." Rizzo replayed with an upbeat tone.

Major Rizzo scanned the crowd of the 16 Pilots. "Today, we finally strike back against the enemy. Command has gifted us an excellent mission to test the effectiveness of our standard anti-ship load-outs on this new adversary. First Lieutenant Charlie O'Day will command Green Flight. First Lieutenant Albert Smith will command Blue Flight. Captain John Smith will command Orange Flight. I will personally be leading the Indigo flight. Our mission is to hit a retreating enemy battle line in the Patapsco River. Intelligence has informed us of three Dreadnoughts, two Cruisers, four destroyers, and four enemy transports. I plan to make sure none of them leave the Chesapeake alive. Green, Blue, and Orange flights have standard anti-ship Loadout B. For those of you who have not had your morning coffee yet, that's six AGM-123. Indigo flight will have standard anti-ship loadout T, which means six Mark 51 torpedoes. Our current stock of them is relatively low, so be prepared to land with some leftover torpedoes unless this mission goes FUBAR. I have also graciously given all of you four sidewinders. However, if I see any of you Knuckleheads willingly engaging in a dogfight and using those Sidewinders, I will put you on Latrine train duty if you manage to survive the experience. In addition, each of you will be equipped with a Sniper Pod on the off chance the environment is more target-rich than anticipated. We should be having at least three flights of F-16 as top cover. However, Command has informed me that this is not a guarantee. The plan will be for Flight Indigo to orbit the target area. We will then use our sniper pods to light up the targets. 14 mi from the target flights Green, Blue, and Orange will orbit, awaiting targeting confirmation from me. I will then signal to each flight to deploy your AGM-123. According to intelligence, the enemy Fleet units appear to lack Advanced Air Defense systems. I do not expect Green, Blue. or Orange flight to come under fire. However, stay vigilant as the enemies' capabilities are still relatively unknown. We leave in 2 hours. Captain Smith will distribute your mission briefs, study them well, and we'll all make it home.

3 Hours later, just west of Willmington.

Major Rizzo receives a radio message from command as the 16 A-10s make their way south through the gloom.

"Indigo Flight lead top cover will not be available. All Fighter wings in the AO have been vectored toward South Jersey. The Hope Creek Nuclear Generating Station and Salem Power Plant are under sustained air bombardment. Reactor containment is holding for now. Indications from surviving military elements in Baltimore and Eastern Maryland show that enemy air assist has been vectored north towards South Jersey. Vector flight plan further west to avoid enemy fighters. Command Out."

1 hour later, Midnight just north of Baltimore:

16 A-10s flowed in and out of clouds and smoke as Rizzo aimed to avoid enemy combat air patrol, possible naval radar, and ground observers. Accordingly, Major Rizzo erred on the side of caution and had his flight fly unusually low and close to the deck to avoid detection. This night was also unusual because it wasn't quite as dark as it should be with the multiple fires along the coast. The remnants of the nuclear firestorm around Dover lit up the Horizon like a second more miniature sun. After checking his IFS system, Major Rizzo called out into the darkness to the rest of his aircraft, ordering a sound-off and weapons-ready check as the aircraft approached the first split-off point where Indigo flight would head towards the target area to identify and target enemy ships. This point would be where the three remaining flights stay behind and start their orbits, ready to launch their AGM-123.

"This us Indigo Lead sound off,"

"Green flight give me a systems check:"

This is Green 1. All systems are green.

This is Green 2, "all systems are green."

This is Green 3. "all systems are green."

This is Green 4, "all systems are green."


"Blue flight give me a systems check:"

This is Blue 1. All systems are green.

This is Blue 2, "all systems are green."

This is Blue 3. "all systems are green."

This is Blue 4, "all systems are green."

"Orange flight give me a systems check:"

This is Orange 1. All systems are green.

This is Orange 2, "all systems are green."

This is Orange 3. "all systems are green."

This is Orange 4, "all systems are green."


"Indigo flight give me a systems and targeting pod check:"

This is Indigo 2, "all systems are green, pod is hot."

This is Indigo 3. "all systems are green, pod is hot."

This is Indigo 4, "all systems are green, pod is hot."

Rizzo piped up, "Okay, boys and girls, all systems are green. Targeting pods are hot, so let's do some damage. Green, Blue, and Orange flights start your orbiting procedures and lift altitude to 10,000 ft. Indigo flight on me. Let's light up some targets.."

Rizzo then switched his radio to the wide band, "This is Indigo lead to all nearby US Army, Navy, and PRT assets. We have 16 A10s inbound friendly. Repeat 16 A10s inbound. Northwest of the city."

As Green, Orange, and Blue flights began to raise their orbits to Ideal launch height. Indigo flights hit maximum speed and dashed for the Cheesepeak as they approached the bay coast. Indigo flight popped up to 5,000 ft and started hunting for targets. In the Gloom and Smoke, their thermal imaging equipment identified four Dreadnoughts, two Cruisers, four destroyers, and four transports racing down the Patapsco River for the open water of the bay.

Rizzo flipped his radio back to a narrow band, "Indigo lead to Green, Blue, and Orange flight targets are spotted. Targeting instructions will be relayed soon."

Indigo Lead to Indigo flight, Indigo lead will light up Dreadnought position A, Indigo 2 light up Dreadnought position B, Indigo 3 light up Dreadnought position C, and Indigo 4 light up Dreadnought position D. Please confirm.

This is Indigo 2, target lit,
This is Indigo 3, target lit,
This is Indigo 4, target lit,

This is Indigo Lead to Orange one set Target to laser designator Indigo 1 maximum drop. Orange 2 sets the target to the laser designator Indigo 2 maximum drop, and Orange 3 sets the target to the laser designator Indigo 3 maximum drop. Orange 4 set Target to laser designator Indigo 4 maximum drop.

This is Orange 1 to Indigo lead. Flight Orange is ready. All Targets are set, and weapons are hot.

This is Indigo 1. Targets are confirmed to be non-friendly. Orange Flight, launch all weapons.

Fourteen miles into the gloom and smoke, 24 AGM 123 lit their solid rocket motors and screamed into the night as indigo orbited the bay, keeping their lasers on their respective dreadnaughts. The bay lit up massive explosions as each Dreadnought took 6 1000 lb bombs to their sides, shredding their armor and blowing magazines. A thunderous number of booms, some say, even rivaling the sounds of the nuclear explosion that hit Dover, shook the night. Glass that managed to survive the night so far shattered from the concussive blast.
Indigo Lead also noticed that two destroyers near the dreadnaughts had just disappeared off his scope, consumed in the titanic explosion as four dreadnaughts had just ceased to be there.

This is Indigo lead to Flight Orange. All Targets hit are eliminated. I wish you could have seen it. Flight Orange return to base.

Switching to wide band quickly, Rizzo said, "To local command, this is Indigo flight lead. If you can hear me, we have four Dreadnoughts scratched and what appears to be two destroyers scratched as well"

Switching back to a narrow band, This Indigo lead to Indigo flight, switching targets to the cruisers,

Indigo 2 Target lasers on Cruiser 1. Indigo 3 and 4 Target lasers on Cruiser 2.

This is Indigo 2, target lit,
This is Indigo 3, target lit,
This is Indigo 4, target lit,

Flight Blue, this is Indigo lead. Prepare to receive targeting instructions.

The is Blue 1. Command is acknowledged.

This is Indigo Lead to Blue one set Target to laser designator Indigo 1 maximum drop. Blue 2 set the target to the laser designator Indigo 2 maximum drop, and Blue 3 set the target to the laser designator Indigo 3 maximum drop. Blue 4 set Target to laser designator Indigo 4 maximum drop.

This is Blue 1 to Indigo lead. Flight Blue is ready. All Targets are set, and weapons are hot.

This is Indigo Lead. Targets are confirmed non-friendly, launch all weapons.

Rizzo looked on as The Cruisers desperately tried maneuvering in the confined waters to throw off whatever was attacking their formation. The two remaining Destroyers moved alongside the Cruisers, and once in position, they began firing into the air with random flak bursts to try to hit whatever hit the dreadnoughts. As the AGM 123 screamed in, the enemy forces got lucky and managed to shoot two of the AGMs down. However, this didn't help them at all. Cruiser one took ten AGM-123 hits and, in the catastrophic explosion, sunk the Destroyer next to her. Cruiser two took 12 AGM 123 hits and sank the Destroyer next to her in an even more devastating explosion. With the second Salvo, the enemy formation effectively ceases to be combat effective. However, Rizzo wasn't feeling particularly merciful today.


This is Indigo lead to Flight Blue; all Targets hit are eliminated, return to base Blue Flight.

As Rizzo prepared to target the transports. His radio lit up with a message. To Indigo lead, this is Colonel Dan Arnold of the 115th Infantry Regiment Maryland National Guard. I am forwarding my IFF code to confirm my identity.

This is Indigo lead, Major Rizzo. I have confirmed your codes. How can I help you, Colonel?

Colonel Arnold said in a stressed voice, "Indigo Lead, I need you to level Fort Smallwood Park. Enemy units are heavily entrenched, and I don't have the men right now to take it back. They can threaten the rest of the city if they hold that position. The Park contains some Chemical agents in deep storage. There is a facility hidden there. I am transmitting you a targeting packet.

"Colonel Arnold, I have received the targeting packet. Consider the target doomed." Major Rizzo replied.

This Indigo lead to Indigo flight, switch laser targeting to Fort Smallwood Park, I am transmitting new targeting positions to you. We are aiming for an underground chemical weapons depot."

This is Indigo 2; target receive and target lit,
This is Indigo 3; target receive and target lit,
This is Indigo 4; target receive and target lit,

Flight Green, this is Indigo lead. Prepare to receive targeting instructions. When I order fire, stagger your launches in a 1-minute interval. We are aiming to penetrate and destroy an underground facility.

This is Indigo Lead to Green 1 set Target to laser designator Indigo 1 maximum drop. Green 2 set the target to the laser designator Indigo 2 maximum drop, and Green 3 set the target to the laser designator Indigo 3 maximum drop. Green 4 set Target to laser designator Indigo 4 maximum drop. Rember drop sequentially with minute intervals.

This is Green 1 to Indigo lead. Flight Green is ready to drop instructions received. All Targets are set, and weapons are hot.

This is Indigo Lead. The targets are confirmed. Drop all weapons.

In the next few moments, Smallwood was rocked by 24 1000 lb bomb hits, and secondary explosions began to pop off all over the park.

This Indigo Lead to Green Flight, Target is eliminated, return to base.

Indigo lead to Indigo flight. This next part will be tricky. Our job is to hit those transports. I will take Transport 1. Indigo 2 takes Transport 2, Indigo 3 takes Transport 3, and Indigo 4 takes Transport 4. Remember, only drop two torpedos, we don't need to waste more on the transports.

This is Indigo 2; target receive.
This is Indigo 3; target receive.
This is Indigo 4; target receive.

This is Indigo Lead. Initiate your attack runs. Four A-10s carrying 6 Mark 51 Torpedoes each lined up their target. In the tight confines of the river, the transports did not have much room to maneuver to avoid the incoming doom as the A-10 dropped 2 Torpedoes on the transports and pulled out of their approach. Transport 1 received two hits, transport 2 received two hits, transport 3 received two hits, and transport 5 received one hit. Rizzo couldn't help but notice how quickly these transports sank to the bottom. As the other members of the Indigo flight lined up with him to return home, he was satisfied with the knowledge that his efforts today proved they could strike back against this foe.
 
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Hmm, wonder what would happen if the US government responded to the Endbringers or the Abyssals by reactivating Project Crossbow. The Knight/Taylor unit was POWERFUL as it was.

Hardest part would be the excited Bromide in an Argon matrix supply, I think.
 
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Timeline Post V
1 June 1898

The First Marine Cavalry Regiment, nicknamed the Rough Riders boarded SS Yucatan, which then raised anchor and departed for Cuba. A total of 1,100 men and 1,300 horses, their rifles, their ammunition, along with two M1895 Machine Guns were embarked. For Wiseman and Crow, to call the departure an exciting time for the two Native Americans was something of an understatement. This was, to their knowledge at least, the first time that people from their respective tribes had seen the ocean let alone traveled on it.

Meanwhile, Teddy Roosevelt read a letter that had been sent to him by President McKinney. It outlined the President's plan for Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines. He wanted those three islands to develop their own unique subculture within the United States and ultimately, retain it.

6-14 June 1898

The Battle of Guantánamo Bay was fought from June 6 to June 14 in the year 1898, during the Spanish–American War, when American and Cuban forces seized the strategically and commercially important harbor of Guantánamo Bay, Cuba. Capturing the bay from the Spanish forces was instrumental in the following Battle of Santiago de Cuba as it denied the Spanish Naval Forces an easy escape from the United States Navy and the subsequent invasion of Puerto Rico as it allowed for a staging point. Although overshadowed by the land and sea battles at Santiago, the establishment of the United States naval base at Guantánamo Bay and the rout of defending Spanish troops by American and Cuban forces was important in the final Spanish defeat. This battle also resonates deeply in modern Cuban culture as many Cubas consider it the battle in which Cuba's path to becoming the 49th State of the Union was well and truly set in stone.

23 June 1898

Having arrived in Cuba, the 1st Marine Cavalry Regiment disembarked from their transport in a foreign land. For Wiseman and Crow, it was something…interesting. Mostly in the fact that for twenty-three days, they hadn't been able to see land as they sailed across the ocean. Once upon a time, that was just a story told by the White Man, but now, having seen it and even journeyed across it. The two Native Americans knew that they were being pioneers for their people.

During the voyage, both of the Native Americans had made Medicine Shields, wearing them over their packs was difficult, but doable. The Lieutenant Colonel had actually asked about it and Wiseman had been pleased to explain to Roosevelt that the purpose of the Medicine Shield was for protection from spiritual opponents, the unseen, and in this case to hopefully provide some additional luck in the face of enemy fire.

As they were disembarking, however, Crow had a much different conversation with the Lieutenant Colonel. The discussion hadn't been easy as it was very much fraught with tension. But during that conversation, Crow lofted this common tactic that various tribes used in wars with each other. They would fix the enemy in place with a decent-sized force and then while the enemy was distracted, warriors would attack their flanks, hopefully simultaneously.
 
Onslaught 2.3
"Where are Admirals Kimmel and Pye?"
"Dead sir."
"Who the hell is in charge then?!"
"You are sir"


Rear Admiral Isaac Campbell Kidd and Lieutenant Allan Reed - 7 December 1941

Rear Admiral(!) Taylor Hebert

Taylor was grateful to run into Holloway after waking up, for one the shock of being a Rear Admiral was something that even after a restful sleep, was still difficult to come to grips with. She was commanding ships now and held the lives of those crews in her hands. It was a responsibility that was enormously heavy for her. She didn't feel like she was ready for such a thing, particularly when the sum total of her experience was essentially on-the-job training.

It was likely a miracle that she had done as well as she had at Saco Bay. But she had to admit that she felt marvelously better after eight hours of rack time. But she wasn't sure how much of that was herself and how much of that was due to the unexpected snuggle session with Madison and Lansdale who were now walking with her in a sort of screening position.

"Sleep well, Rear Admiral?" Holloway asked.

"I did actually, these two little munchkins helped," Taylor said, patting the heads of Madison and Lansdale, the latter making a unique pleased keening sound.

Holloway nodded. "Escorts guarding their charge?" he asked with a small smile.

"Yessir!" Lansdale and Madison chorused in unison.

Again, Holloway nodded. "Good," the man sighed. "At least you got eight hours of sleep, I only got five."

That didn't sound good at all. "Why's that, sir?" Taylor asked.

Holloway seemed to age ten years as he spoke. "There were four more nuclear detonations during the night. There was a landing in Cape Cod that was almost completely missed, the Air Force dropped four B83s on it, and losses for the enemy have been deemed to be almost total. Still, a threat to Boston and Providence has been neutralized." he explained and Taylor paled.

"Fuck," she swore softly.

The Vice Admiral nodded in response to her words. "That's the long and short of it. Things are getting fucking ugly out there."

"Yeah, that brings us up to what? Sixteen nuclear bombs used so far?" Taylor asked weakly, terrified by the thought.

"Yeah, RUMINT is saying that a couple of MOABs were also dropped on Kitsap during the night, but we're still waiting for confirmation on that one," Holloway said as he walked, Taylor following somewhat behind him.

"Christ, it's getting bad out there. I must admit though, I am worried for my family." Taylor stated nervously.

Holloway smiled. "You are Danny's little girl, aren't you?" he asked after a moment.

"How do you know that?" Taylor asked, confused.

"We're close friends, Danny did survive the bombardment. Though he's currently acting CO for the local Coast Guard Station and we got a text message from your mother recently, she's fine if a bit rattled." Holloway explained and Taylor exhaled, allowing her shoulders to slump, relieved.

"Thank God, that's a relief, I thought I lost them both yesterday," Taylor admitted and she looked at Holloway with relief in her eyes.

"Indeed, though Danny did give me an earful about how he's not an officer and now he's in command of a Coast Guard Station. I think that he might be a bit out of his depth, but then again, he has kept the DWU going for the past decade." Holloway said and Taylor laughed, that sounded like Dad alright.

"I take it Mom's worried sick about me?" Taylor asked and Holloway smirked.

"More than worried, she wants to chat with you about what happened yesterday." He replied and Taylor felt fear.

"Oh God no." She moaned plaintively. "Save me?" she begged.

"Begging is unbecoming of an officer, Miss Hebert. Though having met Annette, when she's on the warpath, it's best to get out of her way." Holloway replied and Taylor scowled at her superior officer before sighing in defeat. The man was right when her mother was on the warpath, it was best to either follow her, pray that you weren't the target, or beg for mercy.

"Can I go visit her after breakfast?" Taylor asked and Holloway nodded.

"Probably for the best, I'll arrange for a car to take you after you finish. Also, we've stood down from MOPP 4 readiness, no fallout was blown in our direction from any of the nuclear detonations. So we got lucky, also, I recently got good news from Wright-Peterson AFB that I was going to tell Armsmaster." Holloway said and Taylor hummed.

"What's that?" She asked.

"Miss Militia is going to pull through," Holloway said and Taylor couldn't help it, she exhaled in relief.

"She's one of my favorite heroes," she admitted, somehow she could tell that one of her engineers was also relieved to hear about her survival, which was a little confusing. "To hear that she survived the madness of yesterday? It's an enormous relief."

Holloway nodded in response. "As a hero, Miss Militia has done good work out there. So hearing that she lived is a relief, particularly since she's one of the Inaugural Wards and there aren't too many of those left."

"Still, how is Emma doing?" Taylor asked and Holloway cringed.

"Vulcan looked her over, Emma can technically still steam and fight, but she doesn't recommend it. She has a few ideas for repairing her, but at the moment we can't spare the time and we have no idea how long it will take. I am thinking of keeping her here for now until things calm down." Holloway said and Taylor nodded.

"Alright, it's just, that I've known Emma for over a decade and she's my sistership to boot and I am the elder sister, thus it's my job to worry about her," Taylor said. Holloway snorted, but his expression indicated that he understood how she felt on the matter. Which admittedly was a huge relief.

"That's completely fair. You have my word that I won't deploy Emma unless it's necessary, and I promise that it won't become like that," Holloway said and Taylor nodded.

"I just hope Emma doesn't do anything stupid while I am out trying to bring New Jersey home," Taylor admitted and Holloway sighed.

"Is she stubborn like Annette?" Holloway asked and Taylor groaned but nodded.

"Admittedly, in her own way. But yeah, she can be stubborn like mom can be at times. So best watch out for that." Taylor replied and Holloway sighed, as if he didn't like that idea. Taylor could honestly sympathize, Emma once she set her mind to something was not an easy person to dissuade. It was one of her core traits, to be honest, and frankly, one that had more than once resulted in Emma being a major pain in the ass.

"Thank you, Taylor," Holloway said as they walked out into the morning sun. Her home was ravaged, flames and smoke rose into the air, wreathing the buildings and casting them in harsh shadows. The monsters of the abyss were responsible for this and they would pay. Then the vice admiral spoke again. "I just wish we knew who the hell was responsible for this atrocity." he snarled.

"I have a working suggestion for a name, sir," Taylor said and Holloway looked at her.

"What is it, Rear Admiral?" he asked.

"Abyssal sir. I may have gotten a bit philosophical, but the enemy seemed to rise from the depths of the Abyssal Plains of the ocean given that they came out of fucking nowhere. Ah, excuse me, sir." Taylor said, cursing as she did so.

"Forgiven, Rear Admiral. But still, Abyssal is as good of a name as any for our opponent. Better than 'Monster Ship' or 'The Enemy' which is what I put in my AAR for the Battle of Brockton Bay, at least we now know who we are fighting." Holloway said and Taylor nodded.

The base was busy, humvees and trucks were going this way and that. Men with gas masks fastened to their belts went about their duties. Taylor looked out at sea and saw that additional ships had arrived in Brockton Bay while she was sleeping. She could make out about fifteen or so merchantmen, some of whom bore visible battle damage, along with the huge form of a cruise ship that had clearly been through hell. Her upper decks were blown open, shattered balconies adorned her flanks in great gaping gashes that resembled ugly scratches, and lifeboats had been riddled by shell and cannon fire. The unlucky vessel had likely been strafed and bombed by enemy planes, it was probably a miracle she had made it here.

But beyond the civilian ships were the additional military ships. A pair of badly mauled guided missile frigates appeared to be about seven thousand tons, a smaller Oliver Hazard Perry class guided missile frigate, and finally a single enormous Flight III Arleigh Burke class Guided Missile Destroyer. It was an impressive collection of ships, but most of those ships collectively looked beaten and battered. Looking further out, she spotted another merchant firmly beached on Kittery Shoal and horrifyingly low in the water.

"I take it that they showed up throughout the past few hours?" Taylor asked and Holloway nodded.

"They did, we have the frigates Rodger Young, Pharris, Kimmel, and the destroyer Johnston. Of the lot, Johnston is in the best shape having only suffered a few light hits she demolished a force of Ironclads at range handily but ran like hell when a Dreadnought came up to support them. One of the lookouts reported that sometimes when you blinked you saw the ship and other times a pale, statuesque woman." Holloway said, gesturing to the ships in question in turn.

"The frigates look like they've been shot to hell," Taylor noted and Holloway sighed.

"They were sailing in company with an Expeditionary Strike Group that was sailing home after unloading their Marines at Camp Lejeune. As far as I can tell, they got harassed by enemy units and were functionally chased this far north. The transports unfortunately didn't make it through the night." Holloway said and Taylor cringed.

"There's our first major loss. The transports of an Expeditionary Strike Group and the heavier escorts, unless they managed to bolt into safety elsewhere." Taylor said sorrowfully and Holloway shook his head.

"We lost the Amphibs, but some of the larger escorts managed to bolt into the Fall River area, partially thanks to Montana and Quincy heading out to help. But the Abyss brought up heavier units and thus the frigates were forced to continue their flight north. It was thanks to that we found out about the landings on Cape Cod as they took the canal and got actively shelled by enemy artillery which is what resulted in the nuke strikes." He explained and Taylor nodded, that was good to hear…the loss of life wasn't as catastrophic as it ordinarily would have been.

"That does explain the general lack of masts on those ships," Taylor said, noting that it seemed like a hacksaw had cleaved the masts off.

"True, either way, it got them to us and allowed us to stop the enemy from advancing further into American territory," Holloway said and Taylor nodded - though she couldn't help but wonder at what cost.

"I must admit, I would feel better if we could confirm that the ships in Providence, Rhode Island are like us. Particularly if we could arrange for them to come up here." Taylor said as she looked out to sea, past the anchored ships.

"I ordered Purity back to Brockton Bay, we can have her check Providence. See if Montana and Quincy are similar to what's going on with Salem and Cassin Young." Holloway said and Taylor nodded, that made sense.

Her lookouts spotted something and she turned to look. "Speaking of, here she comes." Taylor said, gesturing up into the sky as glowing like the sun, Purity descended from the sky. With a thump, she landed and came to something close to attention though her stance was wrong.

"Purity reporting, sir." she said, somewhat nervously.

"At ease, Purity, and if you feel comfortable with it, you can unmask." Holloway told her as Taylor gazed upon the former villain who became guarded.

"You won't sic CPS on me?" she asked.

Holloway and Taylor both blinked in surprise, why the hell was Purity concerned about CPS? "Have a family?" Holloway asked.

"A son and daughter. Kaiser has held my possession of them over my head to keep me in line with the fucking Empire 88." Purity snarled and Holloway exhaled slowly.

"If you formally enlist in the Armed Forces and he tries anything, well, he'd have to deal with the Armed Forces taking offense and frankly, interfering with someone as capable as yourself? Well, he'd end up drowning in an ocean of liquid shit." Holloway said and Purity burst out laughing at the statement and Taylor could feel her shoulders shaking as she tried to contain her laughter.

After a few minutes, Purity managed to get her cackles under control. With that, she then powered down. Taylor was shocked that Purity was such a mousy woman. "Kayden Russel, reporting then, Admiral." she said.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Russel, we have a simple mission for you. Frankly, we know that the museum ships in Boston have had something similar to what happened to my second in command here." Holloway said, gesturing to Taylor.

"Became a Ship Maiden or something?" Kayden asked and Holloway grumped but nodded.

"Yes, and we want to know if something similar happened in Providence, Rhode Island. There's Montana, Quincy, Shoreman, Lionfish, two PT Boats, and maybe if we're lucky we might have the incarnation of Fall River there as well. So a battleship, one, and if we're lucky two heavy cruisers, a destroyer, a submarine, and two PT boats. Your orders are to reconnoiter the area and figure out if they are like that, if they are, I want them either here in Brockton Bay or in Boston." Holloway said and Taylor frowned.

"Sir, that will leave Providence wide open to invasion or follow-up attack." Taylor pointed out and Holloway exhaled.

"I know that Rear Admiral, but frankly we need to consolidate our forces and if what's happening in New York City is true, then frankly, they are in a horrible place. Besides, if we consolidate, we could eventually form a force that we can use to relieve them by sea." Holloway said and Taylor exhaled, resisting the urge to curse at their current strategic situation, loudly and in multiple languages. Languages before her…awakening, yeah, let's go with that, that she knew that she didn't know those languages before she awoke and now she did.

"You're awfully young to be a Rear Admiral." Kayden noted, looking at her.

Taylor laughed. "I commanded almost forty ships at Saco Bay, apparently, that earned me two stars." she explained and Kayden winced.

"Those were probably some of the worst minutes of my life, my part in the Battle of Saco Bay was just horrifying. Shielder just sort of got torn apart into these bloody chunks by a flak burst, Lady Photon was just gone. She got hit by a large caliber shell and it just…took her apart amid an unpleasant squelch... and Crystal… I'm not sure what caused her to get torn in half but she almost immediately started falling. I barely caught her in time." Kayden admitted, tipping her head in respect.

"They'll be remembered, Miss Russel, they're heroes and they died like heroes. Given the flood of hulls that we're going to be laying down, I will not be surprised if some of the heroes who were killed yesterday will have a ship named for them. But until they're immortalized in steel, we shall remember them. Anyways, I want you to be careful Miss Russel, if you see enemy fighters, I want you to put your safety first and scrub the mission." Holloway said and Kayden paused, confusion spreading across her features at those words.

"Something wrong, Miss Russel?" Taylor found herself asking the former villain.

Kayden blinked and shook her head. "No, well, sort of. Kaiser never told me to be careful even when I was leaving to go fight Lung. So being told to be careful and to put my safety first? It's a new experience for me." Kayden admitted and Taylor swore under her breath while Holloway growled.

"Well, the military is not Kaiser. We do care about those under our command." Holloway said and Kayden nodded, a smile spreading across her features as she stood erect.

"That's a relief, I still have the radio and tracker thingy that I was given." Kayden admitted, gesturing to the piece of plastic in her ear and a device maybe the size of a large wallet on her waist.

Holloway nodded. "Good, now then, good luck and dismissed."

Kayden nodded and with a glittering flash, she became Purity once again. She shot up into the heavens and briefly flew west, before heading south, no doubt following I-95. As the former villain, glimmering in the morning sun, shot far to the south and out of sight, Taylor looked back at Holloway. "Right, next on my menu is breakfast. I hope that Booth was successful in finding a place willing to do catering." she said as her stomach grumbled loudly at that moment.

Holloway chuckled as he nodded. "He scored success at a Hannaford down in Raymond, apparently he also found out that he's currently Acting Director, so he used that authority to get the PRT there to jump to get it here."

"So it's probably just cold sandwiches, what with most of the food here in Brockton Bay likely contaminated by gas." Taylor shuddered and Holloway nodded.

"We're hoping that Fedora gets here quick." Holloway answered as they walked towards the mess hall.

"Fedora?" Taylor asked, wondering what the hell hats had to do with anything.

"The Federal Disaster Relief Administration or FDRA." Holloway explained after a moment. "Or Fedora when pronounced phonetically."

Taylor groaned, a fun acronym, yay. What's next, disaster relief managers at that organization wore fedoras? Still, she had to admit that Holloway did have a point. They needed people with drinkable water and edible food, or they were going to have a crisis on their hands. Beyond what they already had considering the war that had erupted just yesterday. It was a thought process that frankly was more than a little terrifying.

"That's fair." Holloway said as he pushed open the door to the mess hall and held it open. Taylor smiled in thanks and pushed her way through the open door. As she did so, the smell of cooking food hit her nose and she stopped, before staring. Booth stood in the center of controlled chaos directing people wearing PRT patches from at least three different cities. On a table in the back were some of those portable travel griddles and propane tanks.

"How?" Taylor asked looking at the chaos, she could smell bacon, steak, eggs, and pancakes.

Holloway looked equally stunned. "I have no fucking clue how he managed this." he said.

"I'm not complaining." Taylor said as she spotted Emma, Charlotte, Dinah, Aisha, and the various destroyers enjoying their meal and she looked at Holloway.

"Uh, why is Emma over there?" Taylor asked after a moment.

Holloway did a double take. "How the fuck? She's supposed to be getting bed rest!" the man said, alarmed.

Taylor paused and then facepalmed. "We're ships, almost thirty thousand tons of steel! Frankly, she's probably on the equal of light duty for us, though for a normal person that's full duty." she explained and Holloway sighed.

"Great, I am going to sit down with Vulcan then and we're going to work out duty classifications so I don't ream someone out for actually doing Light Duty when I think they aren't. Good catch, Rear Admiral." Holloway said and then he gestured towards the table. "Go eat, I am going to talk to Booth about how he pulled this miracle off."

A few minutes later, with her plate piled high with flank steak and eggs, she settled down at the table with her task force. Charlotte and Dinah seemed to be having a religious conversation…or more accurately, Dinah was bombarding Charlotte with questions about Judaism with the sort of curiosity in her voice that only a Pre-Teen could have. Taylor, while curious, tuned it out for the moment as her attention was solely on her sister. "Hey Ems," Taylor greeted as she sat down and started eating.

Emma started and looked at her, then her expression lit up. "Taytay!" she said with an eager welcome.

Taylor scarfed down a piece of bacon. "How are you doing?" she asked.

Emma exhaled slowly. "Could be better, Vulcan worked with my crew to get the hole caused by the dud torpedo fixed and she got the shell hole in my boiler room patched, so I am fully watertight again. But she's going to have to properly disinfect my burned-out turret so it can start healing properly." she said.

"Which means?" Taylor asked.

"How do you think you disinfect a wound for someone made of steel? You cut away the steel beyond saving." Emma answered before exhaling slowly. "That means I will likely get introduced to the business end of a Dremel tool today."

What the fuck?!

Emma gave a surprised laugh and Taylor pouted as she had said that out loud. "We're ships, dummy. Using power tools for cutting away torn metal is like disinfectant. Even though I am rather scared about getting cut up to be healed." she groused and Taylor snorted.

"Still, I take it that Vulcan has yanked you from frontline duty?" Taylor asked and Emma nodded.

"She has, to be frank, I was expecting it. Still, it means that I'll be able to check on Sophia." The redhead replied and the ravenette frowned.

"How is she doing?" Taylor asked as she began to demolish her eggs.

"I don't know and that scares me." Emma admitted and Taylor cringed, she knew that Emma and Sophia were an item. The two hadn't exactly been subtle since they fell in love. More than once she had walked in on the two snuggling up, with Sophia usually sitting in Emma's lap and looking quite smug about it. Taylor also knew that it had resulted in more than one fight at Winslow that was usually caused by skinheads starting shit…usually, they also threw the first punch. Shockingly, those fights were often broken up by members of the Brockton Bay Yakuza, the ABB.

Sophia still gave Emma grief over punching two teeth out of a Nazi's head using an incorrectly formed fist because it had resulted in a broken thumb even though it had been a Nazi. Apparently, shortly after The Alley, Emma had gone vigilante once or twice and had been taught by Sophia how to make a fist properly. To call it amusing was something of an understatement and she knew that Mom had occasionally remarked how Sophia and Emma sometimes acted like an old married couple, usually to loud protests and blushing from the two girls.

Under other circumstances, Taylor mused as she continued eating and having her conversation with her sister if Emma had become a Parahuman, she could have made punching Nazis, those fucking Cape Supremacists, her job and thus would be patrolling the streets of Brockton Bay.

Crap. She really was an admiral wasn't she? Ooh, Christ, this was going to be difficult with commanding people who were her friends and possibly sending them to die. Exhaling, she pushed that out of her mind, she would have to talk with her crew later on. But still…she smirked. "Emma, I would prefer if you actually go and check on Sophia, for all of our sakes." she ordered and Emma paused in her chewing.

"Are you serious?" Emma asked after a moment.

Taylor hummed and nodded. "Yes I am, you don't know what state she's in and frankly we haven't figured out duties for you yet. I'll tell Holloway and we can arrange transport to the hospital where she's at. Besides, I have the more unpleasant conversation to deal with."

"Which is?" Emma asked somewhat impudently.

"Talking to my Mom about why I didn't get into contact with her after we pulled in last night." Taylor explained and Emma's expression morphed into one of horror surprise before she started cackling.

"I'll inform your next of kin, Madison right?" she said teasingly while wagging her fucking eyebrows.

Madison gave Emma a concerned look as she turned away from talking to Aisha about something. "What's happening to my charge?" she growled.

"Oh, she has to talk to Aunt Annette about why she vanished and why she didn't inform her that 'hey, I am alright' after we got back to Brockton Bay from Saco." Emma said cheerfully and Madison paled.

"I might be an escort, but I've seen Annette on the warpath…she's terrifying." Madison admitted and Taylor paled, when an escort said that someone was terrifying, that meant that they really were terrifying. Oh joy, Taylor moaned in dismay as she glowered at Madison, not cool! Not cool!

"Thanks for nothing, Madison." Taylor whined. Madison smirked as she replied, "It's your funeral, not mine."


Sophia Hess

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The gentle beeping of the ECG filled Sophia's thoughts as a steady trickle of oxygen was forced down her nose and into her lungs. Each breath was a struggle of agony as despite having gotten a regeneration power in…in…in her second trigger, her lungs were still burning with each painful inhale. Her eyes watered, they had been flushed of gas thanks to that second trigger and then she had been triaged again and had been upgraded from being on her literal deathbed to someone worth saving.

But that figure looming over her, a skeletal hand reaching for her. She had seen Death in person, she shuddered. But what was worse than that was how helpless she had felt when he had come. She knew the score with capes, they rarely lived more than five years if they took part actively in Endbringer fights or clashed with the Slaughterhouse. She had been to Endbringer fights and was also an African-American girl in a city known for having a distinct dislike of minorities.

She knew that cape fights against E88 were basically fights to the death simply because she was black. Simply because they saw her as undesirable. Lord knows that Emma's response to the first time someone had called her that at Winslow had resulted in a brawl, which while the Heberts and Barnes families hadn't been happy…it had felt good putting those assholes in their place.

She looked out the sealed window that was composed of some sort of tinkertech material out at the ruins of her city. Brockton Bay looked like it had been the victim of an Endbringer attack. Broken buildings and blasted open streets were everywhere while a strange green color coated everything, even her window had a slight green tint. It wasn't natural in the slightest, that green tint, it caused a deep revulsion within her.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Still, the ECG beeped on and still Sophia rested, lost in her thoughts. The world had changed so dramatically and violently, this hospital hadn't lost its connections to the internet. This meant that she knew the scale of this attack thanks to PHO - Portland, Boston, Providence, New Haven, New London, New York, Philadelphia, Cape Cod, and the Delmarva Peninsula were confirmed to have been attacked - with the latter two having had nuclear weapons dropped on them.

The death toll was already believed to be in the hundreds of thousands, with all other casualties being in the millions. It was already as bad as some of the worst Endbringer attacks in history. Only from what she could tell, it wasn't an Endbringer Attack, and that made it all the more terrifying. Scrolling through PHO, she watched shaky cam footage of gun flashes off the coast, the distinctive outlines of ships being illuminated by the flashes of the guns and the fiery streaks of missiles, plumes of water erupting, and ghastly shrieking of shells hurtling through the air it was enthralling watching that. Yet at the same time, it was extremely haunting since it meant that people were dying out there.

Leaning back into her bed, Sophia exhaled slowly as she thought of her friends and her love. She hadn't heard a peep from them and that stun more than the burning in her chest. Any attempts for them to be found hadn't been successful. Closing her eyes, she knew the truth now, deep in her soul. They were gone, likely just dust on the wind by this point and it stung deeply. Her friends, a great pillar of support for her that they represented for the past year and a half, were gone.

She knew that she would miss Taylor and Madison, but Emma. Oh, Emma was her everything, the girl who had been instrumental in her relearning what strength really meant. The girl to whom she had first revealed her deepest darkest secret, her Trigger. The girl who had helped her on her bad days afterward. Meeting Emma had been a branch point in her life, she had discovered more about who she was in the past year and a half… than she had ever since she triggered. Now she had lost the star in her life and she felt adrift without it.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Would the Barnes or the Heberts take her in? She hadn't even revealed her second darkest secret, the one that she kept to herself. Yes, her trigger involved nearly being…cornered in her room with Stephen likely wanting to do…unspeakable things to her. But she hadn't yet told them that she didn't consider home to be safe. It was why she spent the majority of her time either at the Heberts, the Barnes, or the Wards HQ because she felt safe there. But when she couldn't be there…when she supposedly went home, she didn't go home. A small homeless shelter was where she spent most of her days when she wasn't at those places - Father Zaifen had become such a recurring figure in her life for the past few years. Did the homeless shelter even survive? If it hadn't then where would she go as it was what she considered to be her safe place.

Her mind shifted to her family, her little sister. Her mother might be useless, Stephen was a bastard who deserved to die in tinkertech-fueled plasma fire, and Terry had joined her birth father six months ago…a victim of the Slaughterhouse 9 as he had left Brockton Bay to go to college, but Amanda Hess? Her eight-year-old little sister was her everything. The girl that she would blow up mountains for to protect and which she had likely failed. She sniffled as she pictured Amanda's smile, something so charming and sweet that it seemed to light up the whole room. She hoped that Amanda had made it through, otherwise she simply didn't know what she was going to do.

What would she do? She had no idea, and that scared her considerably. She just needed a star to steer herself by and she had lost the plot completely with this attack and she had no idea how to regain her course and direction. She hadn't felt this adrift since…since her trigger. But while this wasn't as bad as it was back then, she wasn't sure if she could really find herself again. Sophia pushed that thought down, she got herself functional again after her trigger, she could do it again dammit.

Beep. Knock. Beep. Knock. Beep. Knock. Beep. Knock.

The soft beeps were suddenly interspersed with sharp knocks. Sophia jumped as she was rather rudely dragged out of her thoughts. "Come in!" she called, her voice a weak, dry rasping croak that didn't sound at all like her voice. That was another thing to fucking hate about what this foe had done to her.

The door thunked open and Sophia's eyes about popped out of her head at the stunning beauty who had walked in through the door. With bright red hair that came down to well past her shoulders and sparkling green eyes with flicks of a deep blue. The woman had to be close to six feet, as tall as Danny was, tall and supremely curvy too, lithe like a sprinter with well-developed muscles. Wow…she, Christ Sophia, get your head out of the gutter! Do not oogle the bombshell redhead in the khaki Navy uniform with a fucking star on it!

Shit! This was a General if she remembered military ranks correctly from that chart Velocity had in his office. Should she salute? Yeah, she should salute. Grunting, she tried to push herself up in order to salute in the PRT way. When the woman spoke in a voice that while slightly deeper was instantly recognizable. "No need to salute, Sophia." Emma said as she strode over, put a hand on her shoulder, and ever so gently but insistently pushed her back onto her bed.

"Emma?!" Sophia exclaimed stunned, with an overwhelming desire to stand up and give Emma a death-squeeze hug as well as to slap her silly! How dare she scare her like that!

"Why of course, Soph!" Emma said, doing a curtsey and using that nickname Anne had come up for her.

"What happened to you?! How many years was I out of it?!" Sophia asked, extremely confused as she looked at Emma, who recoiled.

"Sophia? Did you hit your head or something?" Emma exclaimed stunned, looking like someone had just smacked her.

"What? No!" She protested. "Emma, you're like six feet tall." Sophia pointed out and Emma's eyes about bugged out of her skull.

"Excuse me, what?" Emma exclaimed as she looked down. "Sophia, if this is a joke, it's not very funny."

Sophia held up her hands. "Alright! Alright!" she exhaled slowly. "It's good to see you anyway."

Emma smiled as she sat down and reaching out with a hand placed her hand on Sophia's. "It is, what are you doing here though?" her girlfriend asked.

Sophia sighed. "I got gassed during that bombardment that the enemy hit Brockton Bay with. I didn't tighten my mask to get a good seal which is how it got me," she paused and listened slowly to the monitor.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

That sound told her that she was alive. That she was here, that she wasn't dead. "Emma, I should be dead." she said slowly.

"WHAT?!" Emma didn't yell, but it was close.

"I was triaged! I was given a black tag!" Sophia babbled out as she remembered that horrible feeling. That horrible feeling of growing cold, of her body slowly shutting down, of the skeletal figure reaching for her as an alarm screamed. The tears were coming down now and she didn't know what Emma was doing until she felt a hand under her butt and another slip under her back.

With not even a grunt of effort, Emma lifted her up and then sat down. Holding her close, Sophia felt her head rest upon Emma's rather well-developed chest. Emma was practically hot to the touch, almost as if she was burning up in a fever but there was no sweat that such a thing would indicate. Furthermore, as she rested her head against her friend's chest, she thought she didn't hear a heartbeat but the deep burbling roar of something. But Emma began to slowly lace her fingers through her hair and Sophia felt the pain in her chest recede as Emma started dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Breathing easier, Sophia looked up into Emma's eyes as the latter started humming a nameless tune. "Emma, I cheated death in a manner that doesn't seem fair." Sophia said with a sniffle.

"How come?" Emma asked, adjusting her grip so Sophia was more comfortable.

"I second triggered." Sophia wept.

"What? How!" Emma exclaimed.

"You know my trigger trauma right?" Sophia asked as Emma's grip, like firm steel wrapped around her, made sure that the arm with the IV wasn't being pinched.

"Yeah? Being confined and not in control, right?" Emma replied and Sophia nodded gently.

"I felt trapped on that death bed, unable to run, unable to escape, and then-" Sophia said before a voice, heavy like bricks of gold slamming down on concrete spoke.

YOU SAW ME. The voice said in what might have been a conversational tone. Emma sucked in a breath and tightened her grip as Sophia turned her head and saw that figure. A skeleton, garbed in black, wielding a scythe whose cutting edge glowed stood there. The heartbeat monitor continued its monotonous beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Y-yes, Death." Sophia squeaked.

NO NEED TO BE AFRAID, SOPHIA NAOMI SHADOW STALKER HESS. Death said and Sophia felt the blood rushing from her face.

"Why?! You're here to take me away! Like, like my father!" Sophia exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around Emma.

Death didn't seem offended. TAKE YOU AWAY? He asked. NO, I AM NOT. FOR ONE, YOUR SECOND TRIGGER HAS THROWN YOUR HOURGLASS INTO CHAOS.

Sophia paused. "How the hell?"

Emma gave her a sharp poke. "Death remember?"

INDEED EMMA ZOE SOUTHSHORE BARNES, I KNOW WHEN PEOPLE DIE FOR I AM ALWAYS THERE. AFTER ALL, I WAS THERE FOR DENNIS RODGERS CLOCKBLOCKER PETERS. Death explained and Sophia looked at Death.

"Were you there for Dad?" she asked.

I WAS, I ALSO EASED TERRY JONATHAN HESS'S PAIN AS HE PASSED. Death explained and Sophia exhaled. "When they told me that Jack Slash butchered Terry like a hog, I had nightmares about it. About the pain and terror that he likely felt even though he succeeded in breaking that bastard's nose."

CONSIDERING MY DISLIKE FOR THAT BASTARD, IT WAS WELL WARRANTED. Death mused and Sophia couldn't help it, she let out a surprised and delighted laugh.

"Then why haven't you killed him?" Emma demanded.

BECAUSE MY HANDS ARE BOUND BY CERTAIN RULES THAT I MUST FOLLOW UNLESS I TAKE A VACATION AND I HAVEN'T HAD ONE SINCE THE BEINGS YOU CALL THE ENDBRINGERS HAVE APPEARED, THUS I AM STUCK AS A BYSTANDER, AND ELIMINATING THE ENTIRE SLAUGHTERHOUSE 9 WOULD CAUSE MORE HEADACHES THAN IT WOULD SOLVE. BUT JACOB JACK SLASH BLACK KNOWS OF ME, THE ONE TIME HE SAW ME, I SMOTE NICHOLAS GREYBOY KINGSTON IN ONE BLOW AND BROKE ALL OF HIS TIME LOOPS. HE'S DEATHLY AFRAID OF ME. Death explained, causing Emma and Sophia to laugh.

"That was a hysterical pun." Emma wheezed as she peered at Death.

"Still, why are you here?" Sophia asked and Death paused as he looked her in the eye.

WHY AM I HERE? SIMPLE SOPHIA NAOMI SHADOW STALKER HESS I AM SIMPLY HERE TO SAY THAT THANKS TO THE CHAOS YOUR HOURGLASS IS IN, I WAS ABLE TO GRANT YOU MORE OF A FUTURE. NOW, I BID YOU A GOOD DAY, I HAVE A VERY BUSY SCHEDULE AND SOME COMEUPPANCE TO EXACT. Death said and then, just like that, he vanished.

Sophia looked at Emma, stunned. "Nice guy." she croaked, shocked at what had just happened.

"Very nice guy, I am surprised he was that nice, considering who he was." Emma replied, a moment later.

Sophia nodded and then she put her head against Emma's chest again, closed her eyes, and as she was in the process of drifting off into slumber. She realized that she and Emma would have an unpleasant talk later about why Emma was like six feet tall now and why she no longer had a heartbeat.



Annette Hebert

Standing on the front porch, Annette was grateful for the tinkertech exoskeleton that connected to her legs and allowed her to walk with the assistance of a cane. It meant that she wasn't helpless, which was important today. But it also meant that she could stand on the porch and thus glare at her daughter when she arrived. She loved Taylor with all of her heart. But she couldn't help but admit that her vanishing for literally hours while the world went mad without a peep was…terrifying.

She sighed, at least Taylor, Emma, and Madison were safe. She wasn't sure about Sophia but if anything, the fourth member of the little quartet was a survivor given her past and she had survived an Endbringer attack intact which just further reinforced that. Exhaling slowly she turned to look at the ruined skyline in the distance. Many of the skyscrapers had lost floors and the wind had eventually blown away the gas. She could still see that the gas had left a deep unsettling tint across everything.

Hearing a heavy diesel, Annette looked up the street and watched as a humvee began to approach. It had two small flagstaffs topped with halberds on them with a red flag that was waving as the vehicle approached. The huge menacing vehicle had an enormous machine gun on its roof that while it was pointed dead ahead still made Annette uneasy. The vehicle came to a stop and a man stepped out. He walked to the door and opened it.

The young woman was definitely taller and older than she last remembered, but the familial resemblance made her instantly identifiable. Even with that Khaki Working Uniform she was wearing, the cap bore two glittering stars and in the Salad Bar, Annette could see a multi-colored ribbon with the device indicating multiple awards. Annette frowned and put her hands on her hips and the woman walking up the pathway noticeably faltered and she had to hold back a smirk, definitely her daughter then. As the woman walked into earshot she started speaking. "Mom, I am sorry!"

Annette raised an eyebrow. "Sorry about what, Taylor Anne Hebert?" she demanded and Taylor cringed and shrank back.

Taylor fidgeted. "Not letting you know that me, Emma, and Madison were safe?" she tried and Annette deepened her frown.

"Closer, but not exactly." Annette said and Taylor looked visibly nervous.

"Not letting you know that we were sailing to the sound of guns at Saco Bay?" Taylor tried, obviously trying not to panic.

Annette shifted her expression ever so slightly. "Closer still, but no." she said and Taylor was definitely closer to panicking now.

"Was it forgetting to let you know when we returned to Brockton Bay that we were alive?" Taylor stammered, her voice edging on hysterical.

Annette allowed her lips to shift up ever so slightly and she nodded, causing Taylor to hang her head. "Sorry. Mom, it's just."

"Taylor, things were… hectic okay. But even just telling the CO of LPNY to let me know with even a runner would have made me sleep better!" Annette snapped and Taylor nodded weakly.

"Sorry, Mom it's just that!" Taylor then paused as if unsure of what to say next before sighing. "After those nuclear detonations, I forgot." she explained and Annette sucked in her breath and had to hold back a swear. She had suspected what those flashes had been, she remembered seeing nuclear tests on the television after all, but hearing it confirmed was just sickening.

She moved down the steps and then, despite Taylor now being so much taller than her, wrapped her in a hug. Taylor was extremely warm to the touch, but she didn't seem feverish either. Which was strange. What was even stranger was when Taylor returned the hug and lifted her off the ground effortlessly. "Eep!" Annette squeaked in surprise and Taylor paused and looked down, then her eyes widened comically and she let go. Annette's feet hit the pathway and she staggered backwards.

"Taylor, Little Owl? What the fuck happened in the past twenty-four hours?" Annette demanded, feeling supremely confused.

"It's a long story." Taylor answered.
 
Not gonna lie, I'm a bit disappointed with this chapter. If you're gonna go with camp, that's fine, but it doesn't fit the tone of the story thus far. If you weren't intending for things to be campy, then you strayed into several clichés. Either way, things could use an editing pass.
 
Not gonna lie, I'm a bit disappointed with this chapter. If you're gonna go with camp, that's fine, but it doesn't fit the tone of the story thus far. If you weren't intending for things to be campy, then you strayed into several clichés. Either way, things could use an editing pass.

That's primarily because this chapter is actually intended to be a breather chapter it must be noted. Onslaught is by design having a slower start simply because the Massacre Arc went from 0-to-100 so fucking fast...it literally happened over the course of something like ten hours.
 
Onslaught 2.4
AN: Right, this will hopefully be the last of the setup chapters for a while in the story as Onslaught starts to ramp up.



"We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender." - Winston Churchill

Annette Hebert

"So let me get this straight." Annette began, rubbing her temples as she struggled to fight off a migraine headache. "You were on the Riverwalk when the shelling began, there was a particularly loud explosion, and next thing you know, you are waking up and you just knew that you're part ship, part girl, and you sortied?" she asked.

"Yes, Mom," Taylor replied, heaving an exhale. "I just wish that it didn't come with…" she gestured to herself and Annette hummed.

"I do have an idea about that actually, Little Owl," Annette said standing up from the loveseat and pacing.

"What do you mean?" Taylor asked, confused as Annette shifted thoroughly into teaching mode.

"Thinking about it Taylor, what is a Cruiser?" Annette posited.

"A multirole ship meant to be the eyes and ears of the fleet as well as performing independent operations such as raiding, scouting, and patrol," Taylor replied almost instantly.

"Exactly, that's what a cruiser is. But how did this translate to you?" Annette asked as she continued pacing while looking at Taylor. She knew that her little girl was a smart cookie and should be able to figure this out effortlessly. At least that was her hope, she knew that Taylor could handle a question like this. But so much about her daughter, some of her mannerisms suddenly clicked after this reveal.

"Uh, being supremely interested in books?" Taylor asked and Annette nodded in response, she was beginning to figure it out.

"Partially, your interest in books and keeping an ear for interesting tidbits is part of it. If I am right, and frankly I have no idea. You were always USS Brockton CB-1, Taylor, but that aspect of you was under the surface essentially. Whatever happened after that explosion, awoke that side of you." Annette explained as she continued pacing around the room.

"Okay, but what about the body changes?!" Taylor demanded sharply and Annette hissed out a slow breath. She had an idea and frankly, it was the only one that made sense to her.

"I reckon that given time, the body changes you've undergone is what you would have developed into as an adult," Annette said as she cast an appraising eye over Taylor, she was about as tall as Danny was and was healthily well-endowed. Better than her now that she thought about it and looked Taylor over. Which frankly made everything all the more interesting.

Taylor paused and looked over herself again. "That explains that when you pointed it out, I didn't immediately feel any dysphoria. I was meant to be like this?" she asked cautiously.

"That would be my guess, yes," Annette said, pausing before she continued. "This is likely what you would have looked like in two or three years." she couldn't help it, she smirked. "I guess Little Owl, you could say you're all grown up, two years early."

Taylor's face flushed. "MOM!" she yelped, half-scandalized, half-appalled.

Annette didn't drop her smirk, ah the joys of embarrassing Taylor. Something that she had a lot of fun with now that she thought about it. "Still, what I want to know is why you are a Rear Admiral?"

"Why?" Taylor asked and she looked down. "It's because of the Battle of Saco Bay. I commanded almost forty ships into battle and lost about a quarter of my forces." looking up with a conflicted expression, she then asked. "Mom, is it wrong to think of that as a victory even though it felt like a defeat?"

Annette stopped her pacing and walked over to Taylor before wrapping her daughter in a hug. "Did you achieve your objective?" she asked.

"Y-yeah, we did. We stopped the enemy landings in Saco, destroyed their support force, and sank the battleship shelling Portland." Taylor said slowly, exhaling as she did so and returning the hug.

"Then you won, Taylor, that's the important part. You succeeded in your objectives, given what happened today that in itself is a victory." Annette explained and Taylor nodded.

"I see Mom, thanks," Taylor replied and Annette smiled.

"Anytime, Little Owl, anytime," Annette said as they separated, for the first time in her life, Annette felt all forty-two of her years as she looked her daughter in the eyes again. "You're going to have to go back to war aren't you?" she asked.

Taylor nodded. "Yes Mom, I have to."

Annette exhaled a long slow breath. "Can you please tell me what you're going to be doing? Or is that 'need to know' only?"

Taylor shook her head in response. "Neither, I don't know what I am going to be doing. But if it's not classified, I'll make sure that Admiral Holloway tells you what's going on," she said and Annette exhaled slowly.

"That will be nice," Annette said before heaving a sigh, "How are Emma and Madison doing?"

Taylor smiled broadly. "Emma went to go check on Sophia, just before I arrived, I got a TBS message from her. Sophia pulled through being gassed by Phosgene and Chlorine which is a relief. Madison though got reunited with her twin sister, Lansdale and they were doing something on base. Hopefully nothing too crazy."

Annette sighed deeply. "Taylor, even if you survive a gas attack, you're going to live with the aftereffects for the rest of your life. My grandfather was gassed during the First World War and that left its marks on him for the twenty or so years that I knew him. Sophia is going to have to deal with the same things in her life that he did and she was a year younger than him when he went to war."

Taylor paused, stunned. "So wait, you're saying that your grandfather was my age when he went to war?" she asked, trying to come to terms with that fact. It was something that didn't sit right with her.

Annette nodded. "Yes, he was. He lied about his age to get away from a shit home life and served through, how he would describe it? Four years of hell, though when you asked him about it. If he had a chance to go back in time and have a chance to avoid going to war. He would just smile and say 'Oh I would do it all again,' which is something that always amazed me. But you Taylor? You're meant to go to war. But can you do me a favor?"

"Sure?" Taylor asked nervously.

"In the name of all that is holy, please be careful out there, Little Owl," Annette said nervously, letting her fear and worry for her daughter to finally, finally come out in full as her voice cracked from the strain of the knowledge that her daughter was going to fight in war. Yes, she was built for it, but she knew what war did to people. Her father had arguably been a semi-broken man by what he had seen in the Second World War and her Grandfather had problems with what had happened to him in the First World War. The thought of her little girl going to war, even though she was the incarnation of nearly thirty thousand tons of steel and was meant to fight in battles and war. The thought scared her deeply, so deeply. She didn't want to have to bury Taylor dammit! Children should have to bury their parents, preferably after the former grow old themselves.

"I will do my best Mom, I do have an inclined belt that's six and a quarter inches thick that's also inclined plus a three-inch thick deck," Taylor replied as she walked over to her.

"Don't pick me up, Taylor. My poor back can't take that sort of shit." Annette protested and Taylor shrank back.

"But you did it to me all the time!" Taylor whined in dismay as she hugged her.

"When you were little, you're not so little anymore," Annette said as they pulled apart and she laughed at Taylor's rather impressive pout.


Flechette
Central Park


Bullets thunked into the dirt all around her as her M1G4 roared its fury and dug into her shoulder as she fired two shots so fast it sounded like only one shot. Some three hundred meters downrange, near the partially collapsed ruins of the Plaza Hotel, a pair of faceless soldiers had their faces caved in and the back of their skulls blown out in waves of corrupted blood and desiccated bone matter. Their corpses fell flat to the ground in twitching piles.

The gunfire kept sounding, Flechette kept firing with a kill scored for each shot. Machine gun fire started from some of the windows of The Plaza along with intermittent clouds of white smoke erupting as more of the enemy's strange and mixed order of battle got into the fight. Shrieking whistling echoed as more bullets landed all around them and one of Prism's clones suddenly clutched at its stomach, crimson squirting between its fingers as it collapsed.

Dammit.

She snapped her rifle up and fired slowly but methodically, putting bullets into windows with ease as clouds of white smoke amid spitting flashes of yellow light gave her indicators of where the enemy sharpshooters were.

The Pond's water rippled, making Flechette stop firing at the snipers. 'What in the world had caused that?' Flechette thought before quickly forcing it out of her mind and she resumed firing. To her right, a PRT man crumpled as a bullet pierced his neck, blood spraying from the mortal wound in his carotid artery amid a weak gurgling noise.

Flechette kept firing as the ripples in the Pond grew more and more intense. "Flechette!" Jouster shouted and Flechette cocked her head.

"What, Jouster?!" She called out as an NYPD officer to her left was hurled to the ground by a hit. Flechette kept firing as the man spasmed and cried out in pain and another man began to pull him back. "Can't you tell I'm a little busy?" she asked and fired again, killing another of the enemy.

"We need to pull back!" Her fellow Ward shouted at her, terror coloring his voice and Flechette paused. She had never heard Jouster be terrified before and that meant whatever had made him decide that they needed to retreat was not good. But there was just one problem with that, the surrounding atmosphere seemed to be more steel than actual air.

"And how do we do that? We move and those machine guns will shred us! I am not in my full combat kit, you know!" Flechette yelled back to be heard over the roar of gunfire that was all around her.

There was a heaving boom.

Flechette stopped firing and looked up from the sights of her rifle. What the fuck was that? The water in the Pond had been whipped into a frenzy again.

Then there was another echoing boom. This time, Flechette swore that the ground fluttered under her belly. What the hell was approaching them? It couldn't be tanks, she couldn't hear that awful, horrible grinding that she had come to associate with the metal monsters.

Boom!

The pavement that she could see visibly rippled from that impact. Gunfire from their side ended as everyone realized that something was approaching. "Get a rocket ready!" Prism hollered and one of the PRT officers hurriedly readied a weapon, one of those warshot AT4s that they technically weren't allowed to have.

Through the smoke and dust that shrouded the battlefield, she could just about make out the Pulitzer Fountain. The fountain had been there for as long as she could remember and had been in the city for so much longer. Damaged though it was, Flechette knew that it was a monument to literature and writing excellence within the city. Flechette began to rise to one knee.

BOOM!

She lost her balance and fell over, what the fuck was causing that? "Command! Possible Endbringer analog, our location!"

Flechette cursed sharply in Japanese as she opened the bolt of her rifle and touched the gleaming projectile. For the first time, she wished that she had asked for one of the damn Sharps Carbines when she got a rifle. Across the way, she could hear the sound of glass falling to the ground and clattering upon the pavement. Closer to her location, a heavily damaged tree gave up the ghost and came down with a splintering, cracking roar of sound.

For the first time since the bombardment, Flechette felt fear, what on Earth, and in the name of all the Kami, could be approaching?

The Pulitzer fountain vanished amidst a titanic BOOM, crushed under a huge ashen grey foot. This thing took another step and Flechette looked up, and up, and up. Ten meters tall and who knows how long. This monstrosity that looked like a combination of a humpback and a sperm whale trundled into view. Its thick black skin covering layers of blubber and muscle squelched and oozed, with each heaving step that made the ground shake and quiver with each plodding stride. Poking from its head, flanks, and top were guns, while around where the monster's legs connected to its belly were tendrils almost as thick as her waist that oozed ichor, writhing and twisting like a nest of garter snakes.

"OPEN FIRE!" Prism shrieked.

Gunfire roared and dozens, nay hundreds of bullets converged on the monster and sparks fell like rain. The creature stood there, just allowing itself to be shot by oh so many bullets. Flechette realized that they weren't penetrating this monster, it was just too massive. Her arblast probably could have done it with her power, but even so, the monster was so huge that she didn't know if it was even feeling the bullets strike it.

"BACKBLAST CLEAR!" Someone roared and with a heavy crashing roar, a rocket launcher fired. A glowing orange needle impacted the creature and exploded. Ghastly ichor and blood cascaded from the ragged injury that was rent open in the creature's head and Flechette seeing her chance sighted on the gaping wound and pulled the trigger.

"Target that gap!" she cried as the creature recoiled in pain. The men and women who heard her redirected their fire and the creature finally reacted.

BA-WAH!

Flechette stopped firing and covered her ears as a hammer blow was laid upon them her hearing was dissolved into an incessant ringing noise that refused to leave as she shook her head her balance left her and she tumbled to the ground amidst her bones rattling. Then the explosions began amid a heavy whumping of artillery along with the staccato of autocannons. And the screams of people as they were torn apart.

Flechette crawled on her hands and knees as explosions and death rained all around her. She saw two of Prism's clones get bodily shredded by fire, mangled ruins that had more in common with something out of a meatpacking plant than having been human crumpled to the ground. Screams and yells echoed around her.

She twisted, pushing herself onto her back, her rifle coming up and she fired methodically as she pushed herself backward using her legs. It was slow painful progress to get away from the monster. As she watched a tendril, bundled up with something came up to the monster's mouth and unwound. She didn't see what fell into the monster's maw and she had a sinking feeling that she didn't want to.

Then the monster did something that terrified her to her core. In a cruel, unnatural simulacrum of something impossible, she saw muscles and tendons twitch and pull under the thick blubbery skin that covered the monster. Despite having a wound that looked like a dragon had taken a bite…the creature smiled. Flechette gulped, this thing wasn't a beast driven mad by pain. It wasn't an animal of any form at all. This thing possessed intelligence, it was smart and it had feelings, and bringing wanton slaughter upon its enemies brought it joy and happiness. In the hero's mind, that immediately made them worse than the Endbringers, which were soulless and thoughtless abominations that existed only to destroy.

A shell landed nearby and she went weightless, tumbling through the air amidst the baying shriek of shrapnel. She landed hard and painfully and decided that she needed to stop pussyfooting around. Her mind was shrieking at her to run, there was a burning sensation in her side. She glanced down as she scrambled up, a piece of steel was buried in her side. No time to dress it, she needed to run now, otherwise she was dead.

But just before she ran, a bloodthirsty cheer roared up behind her. Flechette threw a glance towards the enemy monstrosity, it was still wearing that unnerving smile as it began to hurl death into Central Park like the Kami. But around the creature's feet came infantry and small vehicles, jeeps and tankettes really. But they would turn this rout into a catastrophe. Backpedaling, she fired her rifle as quickly as she could. Despite the range being rather long for snap shooting, every bullet was a headshot as she hit her windows for timing. Reloading as a spray of autocannon rounds landed around her and shrieking shrapnel caged her, she did the same thing as she hobbled backward as fast as she could, before opening fire again.

Two clouds of white smoke bloomed from the Plaza. Flechette sidestepped and one bullet howled past her and then ducked causing the other to shriek overhead, the sound like an angry bee. Her mind had already noted the muzzle flashes and to make sure nobody got a chance to try and snipe her, she turned to face the source of the shots. Aiming her weapon and adjusting for windage and bullet drop, she fired twice. She wasn't sure if she got them or not but she kept moving backwards.

As she did so, another tendril bundle was dragged towards the monster and deposited its cargo into its mouth. The damn thing was still smiling even as she realized with a sickening horror that it was eating people. Devouring them to feed and more likely fuel itself, which just further fueled the desire that Flechette was feeling to get away. She didn't want to end up in that monster's belly, turning to mush and slop, while she was likely still alive.

"Flechette! Get back, I'll cover you!" Prism roared at her and Flechette exhaled in relief as three separate rifles began firing in synchronicity. Using the opportunity provided by this, Flechette spun on her heel and ran. She bolted past the Protectorate cape as she remembered the training that had been instilled in her by the training Exercise Northern Strike. Thus, her form followed the training that she had received as she bolted behind a tree and started laying down more suppressive fire.

"Prism go! You're covered!" she cried as she opened fire again. The weight of fire wasn't like Prism's but it was significantly more accurate. A platoon that was starting to charge with bayonets fixed fell into complete disarray as she brought her power to bear upon them, faceless soldiers crumpling or diving for cover as she drained a forty-round magazine at them.

"Got it!" One of the clones replied she wasn't sure which, and then the Prism clones began to peel out so they could cover her. Then the area twenty meters ahead of her without warning just blew up.

That blast hurled Flechette into the dirt, dazed with her ears ringing as shrapnel sang through the air as she blinked, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. She inhaled and then coughed violently from the dirt and dust as the ground quivered under her. It could only mean that the monster was advancing. She needed to move!

She sprang away, rifle in hand…only to be grabbed mid-leap and yanked backward as something wrapped twice around her midsection with her arms solidly pinned to her sides. Her scream of terror echoed off the surrounding buildings as she was yanked through the dirt and past the mangled ruins of all three copies of Prism. She knew what her fate was going to be, where she was going.

Suddenly there was a violent jerking sensation and the world flipped over as the tendril tightened and spasmed around her as it seemingly leaped around. I am going to be sick. Flechette thought as she fought to keep her lunch down before finally, the motion stopped. "LILY!" Jouster roared as he ran at her with his Lance ready, he sprayed lightning at the enemy and even from here could hear the screams of the enemy. He reached her and frantically cut into the flesh that entombed her and with a cry of relief, she came free.

"We got to get out of here!" Flechette shouted at him and Jouster nodded.

"I'll co-ACK!" Jouster said before another tendril wrapped around him, pinning his arms, and yanking him so violently off his feet that he dropped his lance.

"JOUSTER!" Flechette shrieked as the team leader for the Downtown Manhattan Wards was carried toward his doom at great speed. The tendril that held him mechanically rose and deposited him into the creature's mouth. Flechette felt like she was going to throw up as the beast closed its mouth and took down a swallow.

Flechette knew that she needed to move but her legs refused to move. She just stared at the monster that had eaten her team leader and friend alive. What good was she?

Someone ran up to her, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her. "Flechette!" A man wearing Staff Sergeant stripes roared at her. "You're next most senior! What are your orders?!"

And just like that, Flechette shook her head and snapped out of it. "Retreat! We need to fall back or we're going to get obliterated here!"

"Agreed!" The man replied and then slapped her shoulder. "I'll cover you!" Flechette turned and thus the crawling tactical withdrawal began in earnest. To be honest it was hell, with an eldritch monster standing over them and hurling death into their defenses while tendrils snatched people away to a horrifyingly grisly fate while the vehicles kept pressing them back.

For Flechette, it was a blur. She was in the zone, barking out orders and directing the slow withdrawal from their part of Central Park. The plate carrier that she had grabbed while at that armory saved her life on multiple occasions now. Bullets thunked into her armor, winding her but not killing her. Her return fire was nothing but devastating as she poured 6mm death into the enemy. But it wasn't enough for there seemed to be dozens of vehicles and thousands of infantry.

But despite the slow withdrawal, they were losing. Men and women were dying left and right despite using cover, primarily because of that monstrosity. As it slowly walked and dominated over Central Park with its terrifying presence as it rained death and destruction down upon the land. Shells and autocannons reshaped the landscape of the park with each passing minute, but it became obvious to Flechette that they were probably going to lose Central Park thanks to this push by the enemy, some two and a half miles! Gone in a single day! From there, the loss of Manhattan would be practically assured!

Then Flechette noticed something. Far to the north, the ground began to rumble. Looking over her shoulder, she frantically tried to spot what was causing it. Had they been encircled? Had the entire defense of Manhattan fallen apart and now they were about to die? That realization caused a chilly sensation to settle within her, that realization that she was about to die. Flechette gripped and reloaded her rifle. She would fight until her last breath left then, she turned to face back towards the enemy and she poured fire into the advancing enemy.

A cannon fired, it was significantly louder than the guns that the eldritch monstrosity had and a glowing lance of light smashed into the creature, rammed through its blubbery skin, and detonated inside. It roared in distinct agony. Flechette looked over her shoulder and spotted two, no three more bright flashes of light and the echoing roar of cannons rolled across the landscape and three more lances of light shrieked across the landscape, the shells howling through the air to impale the creature which heaved under the hammerblows. Thick black smoke roiled from gaping gashes and the monster collapsed, writhing and shrieking in pain.

"140s! Those are 140s!" Someone shouted.

"ARMOR!" Another screamed and Flechette saw the tanks, the huge metal monsters were grinding down the slope of North Hill while to their right came more of the huge and impressive machines. Behind them came smaller machines and infantry by the dozens.

"Well," a voice cut through the fracas of thumping cannons as the tanks on North Hill continued pounding the eldritch monstrosity until it finally stopped twitching. "Hello, Twelfth Armor."

Flechette lowered her rifle and exhaled as the tanks quickly advanced, smashing into the enemy's advance with the subtlety of a brick meeting a plate glass window. The enemy's advance shattered and seemed to disintegrate under the hellish onslaught of the tanks' various weapons. Glowing shells of various sizes flew through the air while hundreds of infantry marched past.

It was over.

Finally, it was over.

But for some reason, the ragged tiredness didn't want to leave her as it settled into her bones. She sat down heavily and looked at the piece of shrapnel in her side. It didn't feel like it was in too deep, she was tempted to just break open her IFAK and treat it herself. After all, it was for when she got hit, but she didn't know if it was lodged in anything important like the Kidneys. "Medic!" she called and one seemed to practically teleport over to her.

"Okay, lay down and I'll look you over!" The man said, forcing her to lay back, the hibernating grass felt better than the dirt. The medic pulled out a tinker-derived handheld MRI and immediately ran it over her side afterward. "Alright, you're lucky, it didn't pierce anything vital."

The man pulled out a QuickClot Bandage and gave her a thick piece of leather. "Bite down on this please."

Flechette did so and it helped when the man yanked the splinter out of her and applied the bandage. "Alright, you're good!" he said, noting something in a book of sorts. "Now then, what's the story behind that dressing on your cheek?"

Huh, funny, she had forgotten about that one. She quickly explained what happened to her and the man nodded before taking the dressing off. "Well, it looks good, scabbing over nicely. I am going to apply a new one, you are walking wounded but still good to fight." the medic said, changing her dressing and giving her a painkiller, which she downed.

Then, ignoring the pain, she stood up and was immediately beset by the Staff Sergeant who had snapped her out of her trance after Jouster's….death. She didn't want to focus on what had happened to him, nobody deserved to die like that. "Orders ma'am?" he asked.

The realization that she was in charge made it rather horrifying. The eccentric collection of heroes, villains, PRT, NYPD, National Guard, and even the civilians who were part of her unit were all looking up to her for direction and orders. They came before her and she wouldn't fail in that regard. Exhaling slowly, Flechette gave her first orders. "Get me a status report from all teams and see if the Army has some extra radios. Before what we just went through, we were using a weird mix of radios and runners to communicate. Frankly, it was likely a miracle that the retreat didn't fall into total disarray."

"Agreed, the Twelfth brought some capes with them, a mix of Protectorate and Independents. Let's see if we can talk some of the Independents into joining our group." The man said and Flechette nodded.

"Make it so," she said.

"Got it, ma'am." And like that, he vanished off to do whatever needed doing.

Flechette felt like she needed to close her eyes and allow for the noise to stop. But she knew it wouldn't stop immediately, thus reloading her rifle, she waited for her sergeant to return.


Lords Port Naval Yard
1300 Hours, 2 January 2011
Madison


A projector screen booted up and Madison leaned forward eagerly, her first briefing as, as Purity had put it, a Ship Girl. She couldn't help but be excited over what was going to be planned for today. Behind her, the cruisers, along with the COs of the three ships that were still battle ready sat. The map that was displayed by the briefing system showed the North Atlantic Ocean, which was painted in this huge angry bloody swath marking hostile territory.

Symbols representing friendly ships and their projected courses showed the majority of naval assets running for their lives to the coastline. USN, NATO, Minsk Pact, it didn't matter, they were all universally running for home often with symbols representing the enemy nipping at their heels. There didn't seem to be a care for which port they were running for, whether it be NATO or Minsk Pact aligned. The most notable was the fact that an entire Soviet Carrier Group seemed to be in high-speed pursuit of Battlegroup New Jersey, only Madison realized that was because the battlegroup was also running for the closest thing that was safe harbor. Which was Brockton Bay, New Hampshire.

There was just one problem with them successfully reaching Brockton Bay: Halifax, Nova Scotia.

The city was flashing dark red, with red meaning enemy occupation extending deeply into Nova Scotia and extending around the surrounding ocean. The port was very clearly under enemy occupation and could serve to strangle any plausible convoy routes extending from the United States to Europe and back simply by providing a jumping-off point for both surface raiders and submarines. It would have to be cleared before they could reasonably start sending convoys across the North Atlantic, which wasn't a good thing as getting onto the island was going to be difficult.

"Damn, that doesn't look good at all," Lannie said from where she was seated to her right.

"No, it doesn't, I'm surprised at that Minsk Pact battlegroup though. What the fuck is Ivan thinking?" She asked and Lansdale shook her head in confusion.

"What the hell is the Minsk Pact and this NATO?" she asked, confused.

"NATO is the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, it's composed of the major players in terms of Allied Powers. So the British Empire and their various Dominions, France, Denmark, Belgium, the Netherlands, Poland, Italy, Spain, Imperial Germany, the Byzantine Empire, and naturally the United States. It was formed in 1947. Meanwhile, the Minsk Pact is composed of the Soviet Union, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Romania, and Hungary - they also formed after the Second World War. Back then, the USSR was going through a transition from a Green Water Navy with limited Blue Water force projection to a true Blue Water Navy in about a decade though. It seems like they were successful in that regard." Madison explained, drawing upon her depth of memories, she had nearly thirty years of memories. It was strange, she was still a teenager, but functionally she had collectively…almost fifty years of memories from her two lives.

"True enough, I wonder what the hell the Reds got," Lansdale said and Madison shook her head.

"Probably some kind of successor to the roughly Samoa-sized Nikolay Zhukovsky class which if I recall correctly was known as Project 1160, at least according to the spooks. Those were supposedly going to be about seventy-thousand tons. I reckon that carrier group is probably part of either the Northern Fleet or the Baltic Fleet, but it can't be part of the Black Sea or Pacific Fleets for obvious reasons. Now, as for what it has for escorts, I don't know." Madison replied as she looked at the map.

"Still seems weird though, seeing a Minsk Pact formation in American waters," Lansdale admitted and Madison shrugged.

"Not the first time though, remember back during the War? Sovetskaya Ukraina? Her squadron came to the United States after Operation Neptune," Madison pointed out and Lansdale nodded, chastised. Ukraina had been the only Soviet battleship that didn't get sunk in port, didn't do much during the war, or had been beaten to death in her first major naval battle and had been the only Soviet battleship to see action in both the Mediterranean and Atlantic Theaters.

"True, I had forgotten about that to be honest," Lansdale replied and Madison opened her mouth to reply to her identical twin sister when a voice roared out behind them.

"Atten-SHUN!"

Moving on autopilot, Madison and everyone else in the room stood in a semi-synchronized thunder of boots and shoes as Vice Admiral Holloway walked down the lane between the rows of chairs. "As you were," he called and everyone sat down.

"Alright, People, so here's the big picture as it stands right now given the war that started yesterday. From what we've been able to piece together, the total number of ships lost for the United States Navy is currently up to about twenty-five; we've been able to confirm for ships that are larger than a Cyclone class Patrol Ship with at least five times that many civilian ships sunk. More battles are happening as we speak, however, the Battle Network still isn't fully established. What we do know is that Battlegroup New Jersey is currently imperiled by the enemy and that while the carrier battlegroup Lydia Litvyak is currently racing to link up with her, the ships are collectively low on missiles and heavy shells. As such, I am ordering the assembly of a task force with the express purpose of sortieing to relieve and escort New Jersey and Lydia Litvyak and their escort groups back to Brockton Bay. Any questions?" Holloway stated.

"Sir, what about the Caribbean States? Cuba, Puerto Rico, Hispaniola, the Antillies, Nicaragua, and Panama?" Someone asked and Holloway cringed.

"Unknown at this time, but from what little we can make out, it's a mess down there and the less said about what we know of Hawaii, Alaska, the Marianas, and the Philippines, the better, as we know nothing about what's going on out there. At the moment what you see on this map is, to a significant degree, admittedly guesswork." Holloway said and a round of suppressed curses went through the room at that news. That was a not inconsiderate amount of America's population, and with the losses that the Navy was suffering out there, it painted a ghastly picture of what was happening.

"What's the order of battle for the two battle groups?" someone asked, the CO of USS Johnston if Madison remembered right.

"Battlegroup New Jersey is composed of one modernized Iowa class battleship, one North Dakota class strike cruiser, four Arleigh Burke-class destroyers, two England class destroyers, four Ernest Evans class frigates, and one Supply class fast combat support ship. Meanwhile Battlegroup Lydia Litvyak is composed of one Lydia Litvyak class supercarrier with an air wing made up of Fandances, Flankers, Fullbacks, Madcaps, Magahilds, Coaler-Bs, and Helixes while her escort is composed of two Slava-II class cruisers, four Bezrassudnyy class destroyers, two Udaloy-II class destroyers, three Krivak-IV class frigates, and she's believed to have a pair of Akula-III class fast attack boats with her. Those are the Orders of Battle that we know they had for sure when this shitshow started, what they got now though we have no idea." Holloway explained and someone cursed loudly.

"Agreed, that's the big picture for the units we're going to be saving, we don't know their current status but we still got ships from both units linked into the Battle Network, or in the case of the Soviets they have their IFFs set to active squawk." Holloway continued in response to that.

"Do we have air cover, sir?" Taylor asked behind her.

"Yes, I've managed to get the Army to cough up some Skyhammers and they'll take over from Rune, Kid Win, Gallant, and Purity; furthermore, I've managed to acquire a Super PBY for ASW cover," Holloway explained and Madison nodded, she might not like Purity, but she was essentially a flying light cruiser in terms of firepower.

"Speaking of Purity, was her mission to Providence successful?" someone asked.

"Yes it was, Steelhull Ship Maidens Montana, Quincy, Shoreman, and Lionfish with the Ship Maiden Fall River are going to be heading to Boston while the remnants of Expeditionary Strike Group Tripoli's escort will stay in Providence in order to protect it. They will relieve the Steelhull Ship Maiden Salem who will immediately set sail for here and may already have relieved her." Holloway explained and Charlotte spoke up then.

"I take it that Salem will be joining us then, Vice Admiral?" she asked and Holloway nodded.

"That is indeed the case, Charlotte, she has orders from Montana through me to set sail for Brockton Bay and join Large Cruiser Division One upon arrival," Holloway said and Madison saw the other Large Cruiser nod through her lookouts.

"What's our Order of Battle then?" Emma asked.

"Flagship will be USS Brockton CB-1 which will be in overall command of this operation. Other ships involved will be USS Norfolk, Salem, Bangor, Valcour Island, the entirety of DESRON 7, USS Johnston DDG-100, USS Merrimack LCS-40, and USS General Pike LCS-45." Holloway said, holding up a hand to forestall any complaints. "I am keeping Southshore and the Fletchers here as a Quick Reaction Force just in case the enemy pops a surprise on us."

"Sir, what is the name of our new enemy?" Someone asked.

"Abyssals, Captain Wallace," Holloway replied.

"Abyssal certainly sounds better than Sea Monster, which is what I used in my AAR." Captain Wallace said and Lansdale snickered out a laugh.

"Operation name, sir?" Plunkett asked, her mane of long crimson hair and ice blue eyes contrasted sharply with her olive skin.

"Operation name is Warpath," Holloway said.

Lansdale snickered loudly. "What did you use to pick that?" she asked, earning herself an elbow in the ribs from Madison. "Ow! Hey!"

Holloway shook his head. "Random name generator, any other pertinent questions?"

"Departure time, sir?" Taylor asked.

"Departure time is set to be 1500 or 1600 hours depending on when Salem gets here." Holloway said.

"Understood," Taylor said.

"Any further questions?" Holloway asked and nobody said anything. "Right, you're dismissed! Good luck and godspeed."


Taylor Hebert

Taylor walked down to the edge of the boat ramp to where the water of the ocean met the concrete which had been whipped into a frenzy by the departure of the first half of DESRON 7, the girls skating on the water as their hulls coalesced into existence around them. As she approached the bottom, she looked up at Emma who was standing on the concrete ledge above the ramp.

"Bye Taylor!" she called down to her.

"Bye Ems! I'll be back soon!" Taylor answered as she reached deeply into herself, took grasp of something deep inside her, and pulled. With a blazing flash of light, she felt two things happen simultaneously and three seconds later, a third thing happened.

First, a heavy weight settled upon her back and lifted her feet, a massive mass of Special Treatment Steel, armor both Class A and B, teak wood, and glimmering brass screws that contained three heavy turrets, two clusters of her flat, circular 6in turrets, a tripod mast, and a broad funnel.

Second, her clothes changed, the Khaki Dress Uniform was replaced amongst the motes of light and sent to her onboard Wardrobe to be replaced by a Navy Blue Skirt, a Haze Grey Skirt, Ocean Grey Tights, and Dull Black shoes while a beetle ring came into existence on her left hand. For some reason, this outfit felt so much better than the one she had gotten from the Navy specifically, it fit and conformed to her curves and lines like it had been purpose-made specifically for her.

Third, in a rising flash of colored light that briefly dazzled her vision her bridge came into existence along with the people who manned her. The helmsman, Lee helmsman, the navigator, the Officer of the Deck, the lookouts, the signalmen, her XOs, and all of the components of her bridge. Captain's Chair, ship's wheel, engine order telegraphs, chart table, compass, the Talk Between Ships, etcetera. It all solidified and now walking to the Captain's Chair, she donned the Hat that was in her hands.

One of the voice tubes blared. "Captain, all sixteen boilers are running hot!" came the voice of Lieutenant Commander Duncan. He sounded familiar for a reason that Taylor couldn't put her finger on.

"Take us out, nice and slow, helmsman," she ordered. The engine order telegraphs clattered as a rumbling roar built up. Her chest felt warm as the sixteen boilers that formed her thrumming heart grew hotter as they greedily accepted more fuel, air, and water as the blowers picked up their fervor.

She loved this, she decided as smoke poured from the funnel and she accelerated away from the boat ramp at a sedate five knots. Ahead, she could already see the destroyers jockeying for position as they proceeded out of the harbor and into the bay proper with the huge form of USS Salem following them. The big heavy cruiser was a huge and intimidating leviathan of metal that was eagerly following the destroyers out, the water foamed white by her immense screws as she bounded after them.

Past the breakwater now, the cargo ships around the harbor noticed the sortie that was occurring. One of the ships immediately began flashing a blinker light. She didn't know what was being sent but that was what her signalmen were for as she watched the blinks.

-.. .- .-.. .. --..-- / -... .-. --- -.-. -.- - --- -. --..-- / --. --- --- -.. / .-.. ..- -.-. -.- / .-- .. - .... / -.-- --- ..- .-. / -- .. ... ... .. --- -. .-.-.- / -- .- -.-- / .- .-.. .-.. .- .... / .-- .- .-.. -.- / .-- .. - .... / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.-

The signalman handed her a piece of paper and she quickly read it.

Brockton, Dali, good luck with your mission. May Allah walk with you.

Taylor smiled at the message. It seemed like the ship that had sent that message likely hailed from Arabia or some other Muslim country, which she didn't know but the fact that knowledge of who she was seemed to be getting around via scuttlebutt. Still, it was best to give a response of some kind.

Thus, pulling out a piece of paper, she wrote the response of Thank you, godspeed! And handed it to the signalman. "Send that if you will Mister Flowers."

"Aye, ma'am!" he said and got to sending the message.

Taylor looked aft and watched as the huge heavy hull of USS Norfolk was pounding up behind her. The girl in the middle of the huge vibrant ship must have been Charlotte she realized. Taylor grabbed a pair of binoculars and pulled them up, she saw that Charlotte was wearing a white blouse with blue bunting with a black skirt and sea blue tights, while a red necktie was around her neck along with a Star of David which hung from a necklace.

Taylor pulled the binoculars away from her face and exhaled, turning she marched back inside and settled in her chair. She watched as they approached the mouth of the harbor. USCGC Alert meandered in slow circles but seemed to notice them as they approached. The blinker light flashed out a message that Taylor again couldn't understand but once it stopped blinking, a signalman came to her.

"Signal from Alert ma'am," he said, handing her a piece of paper. She quickly read it and then a broad smile spread across her face.

Arise, arise, Ships of Brockton Bay!
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
Cannons shall roar, armor shall be dented,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Steam now, Steam now! Steam to Flemish Cap!

Taylor read the note again and they gave a single three-word order. "Honk the horn!"

"Aye ma'am!" the helmsman called and reached up, he pulled the lever to sound the immense monstrosity of a steam whistle. With an echoing roar of sound that roiled across the water like a booming thunderstorm, not only was the horn of USS Brockton CB-1 raised up in music, but so were all the other horns in the task force. The sound rolled across the water, it signaled thunder and power.

"Signal formation! Make speed, twenty-eight knots execute!"

And so, the fifteen ships that made up the task force turned east, the water frothed to white, great rooster tails were thrown into the water and the ships accelerated well past their economical cruise as they galloped into the steadily darkening night.
 
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