- Location
- United States
Hm, now I want to see Jane and the Taffies playing KH.
Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
Sisterly...love?
- Location
- 'Murica
There were times when Yeoman Sarah Gale envied the shipgirls. Every last one of them was stunningly pretty, from the jaw-dropping grace of the battleships—even Jersey had a kind of grace to the way she moved—to the heart-melting cuteness of the destroyer girls. They were all so pretty, and they kept their stunning figures no matter how much they gorged themselves on fat-laden meals.
There were other times when she felt sorry for them. The way a destroyer's smile faded when she learned none of her division mates were back, the way Wash clawed at her stomach with shaking hands when she missed a meal… the look on Dee's face when she asked about meeting some of her old crew. Or the shadow that passed over Frisco's face every time she touched the ragged hem of her crop-top.
But this was neither of those times. Instead, the sailor was simply filled with uncontrollable, incoherent rage. "FRISCO!" she bellowed. Her boots thundered down the steps, pounding against the sheet steel like the hammer-blows of an angry god. She'd been close. She'd been so close.
Another time, maybe, Gale might have been taken aback by the maze of ragged scars tracing out from the cruiser's lean stomach down to her thighs and up almost to her neck. But not now. Now Gale knew nothing but pure incoherent rage. "FRISCO, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!" Gale's voice boomed out with all the fury of an angered E-5.
For an instant, the two naked shipgirls exchanged a look. Borie's dopey smile was a little dimmer than usual, and Frisco's face was a mask of uncomprehending confusion. "Uh…" The heavy cruiser planted her hands on her hips. She would've been displaying an awful lot of that lithe body of hers, but she had more scars between her knees and her neck than she had pristine skin, "Is this a trick question?"
Borie nodded sagely.
"Damnit," Gale seethed mere inches from the cruiser, her hand held up like a knife at Frisco's pointed chin. The cruiser didn't seem to react—to the angry NCO or the chilly December breeze washing over her very naked body. Then again, why would she.
The cruiser was taller than her by an inch, and with her clothes missing, it was obvious that there was very little of the girl's lithe frame that wasn't taut muscle. This is the girl who stood and fought against two battleships and lived to fight another day. What could one sailor—one sailor who she technically outranked do to her.
Gale's hand slowly closed into fist, her face scrunching up like a bulldog's muzzle as she tried to contain her fury. "Damnit, Frisco."
"Uh," Borie waved her tiny hand in the air, her face a strange mix of confusion and sorrow, "Miss Gale?"
Gale sighed, her body slowly pivoting on one heel to face the naked little menace. At least she outranked Borie, for what it was worth. "Yes, Borie?"
"It…" Borie glanced at Frisco, who wore the same inscrutable mask on those sharp Asian features, "It was kinda my idea."
Gale sighed, her anger slowly bleeding off as the chilly breeze cooled her heels. "Of course it was."
"'m sorry," mumbled Borie.
Gale let out an angry huff in response.
"It's okay," said Wash. The battleship shrugged her jacket off, revealing a heather gray turtleneck that she just barely managed to fit into. Gale would've drooled if her fury hadn't boiled it all away. The way her… torpedo bulges moved when she dropped to a crouch… Gale couldn't have torn her eyes away with a steam catapult.
"You were just having fun," said the battleship as she draped her jacket over the destroyer's tiny frame. "hm?"
"Sorry anyway," said Borie. The little destroyer leaned in for a hug, her face all but disappearing into Wash's soft chest. A chest Gale'd been so… damn… close to.
"I forgive you, Borie." The battleship planted a gentle kiss on the destroyer's head, then nodded to Gale.
"Oh, uh," Borie clutched her hands together as she shuffled over, her tiny body looking even more miniature as it swam in Wash's jacket. "I'm really sorry, Miss Gale."
Gale bit her lip. She was still furious… but… dammit, she couldn't say no to a face like that. "It's okay, Borie."
The destroyer just stared up with that wide-eyed stare of hers.
Gale huffed. "I forgive you."
Borie perked up, her face beamed with a toothy smile and she threw her hands around Gale's waist, hugging her tightly with her face squished into the sailor's tummy. "Thank you."
Wash smiled. "Now, let's get you to bed before Edsall misses you."
Borie let go, "Okay, Wash!"
The battleship just smiled that inscrutable half-smile of hers and offered her hand to the destroyer. As the two walked off, Gale could've sworn Wash was throwing a little more swing in those hips of hers, but… no. No, it was just the destroyer by her side throwing off her rhythm.
"Damnit," breathed Gale. She'd been so close, or… at least that's what she wanted to believe. As she played the memory back in her mind, she couldn't help but notice that shewas making all the moves. She asked Wash on the date, she'd been the one to ask for a kiss… Wash just stood there, smiling that half-smile of hers.
Maybe she actually felt the same way, but she could just as easily have been playing along, trying to spare the sailor's feelings. Hell, knowing Wash, she could've been utterly oblivious to the sailor's advances.
Gale's shoulders dropped, her fury evaporating like her chances with the stunning North Carolina-class. She was stunning, gorgeous, humble… she deserved someone who loved her like Crowning loved Jersey, not some sailor who'd drool over her tits like a midshipman at a titty bar. "Fuuuuuuck," she hissed.
"I, uh," Frisco's serene mask cracked. The tautness in her shoulders slackened and the hard angles of her features seemed to melt. "I'm sorry too."
"Huh?"
"That," Frisco motioned to the retreating battleship, "the two of you were having a moment, weren't you?"
Gale shook her head, "I… maybe?"
Frisco let out a long sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm a cruiser," she said. "Forget what happened at Guadalcanal, I'm not supposed to face my problems. I'm supposed to run from them."
Gale glanced up, her fury replaced by confusion and frustration, "What?"
"The briefing," said Frisco. Her scars burned a pale off-blue in the cold December air, and a shiver ran down her spine. "We're… we're not doing so hot. It's like Pearl all over again, except…" the cruiser trailed off as another shiver shot down her lithe body.
"Except what?" Gale shoved her hands into her pockets, watching the way Frisco's naked body tensed with every gust of chilly wind. She'd never seen a girl quite like that. The Destroyers were all little, but they had the chubby-cheeked energy of schoolgirls, and the battleships were grown—very very grown in certain… areas—women, almost seagoing goddesses. But Frisco… the more Gale looked at her, the more frail the sinewy woman looked.
"Except before I knew we'd win," said Frisco. "The Japs could sink every ship in the fleet ten times over and we'd still drown them in steel. Now we're getting just a trickle of…" she glanced down at herself, "Well… us. And nobody seems to know how to open the floodgates."
"Yeah," Gale scowled. "We're uh… we're working on it." The sailor winced as Frisco shivered again, her scars all the more obvious as her skin paled in the cold. "You, uh… wanna go inside?"
Frisco nodded, "Yeah, please."
Gale sighed. A few seconds ago she was inches away from tearing Frisco a new asshole with nothing but the fury of her voice. Now she was inviting the girl inside. "Where's your uniform?"
"At the docks." The cruiser hugged herself tightly, her chest barely peeking out from the crossed sinews of her scarred arms. "I didn't, I didn't take the news well." She blew a loose chunk of coal-black hair out of her eyes, "Figured a nice long shower would help."
"And that's when Borie found you?" Gale couldn't help but smile as she fumbled with her keys.
Frisco nodded. "She figured a little run might cheer me up."
"She means well," said Gale. "She's a little shit, but she means well." The sailor shrugged her door open and ducked into her little on-base apartment. "I'll find you something to wear."
Frisco smiled, her toes curling into the thick gray carpet. "Thanks." She thought for a second, then added, "I don't need a bra, do I?"
"I dunno, do you?" Gale was already busily digging though her closet for something to loan.
Frisco glanced down at her chest, inspecting her own body with the kind of detached professionalism usually only seen by surgeons or ordnance board members. "I'm not actually sure."
"Then you don't," said Gale. The sailor tossed Frisco her new outfit, a pair of soft fleecy pajama pants and a nice T-shirt with two icosahedrons showing 20 and the caption 'yes, they're natural.' Frisco wasn't sure what that meant, but the shirt fit her well enough and the 20's were nicely centered over her breasts.
"Thanks," Frisco smiled, her hips swishing back and forth as she admired the way the soft cloth felt against her skin—or at least the bits of her skin that still had some feeling.
"Yeah, no problem." Gale walked over to what Frisco instantly recognized as a refrigerator. The sailor dug around inside for a few seconds, only to return with two quart-sized containers. "You like ice cream?"
Frisco blinked. "Okay… for real. Is this a trick question?"
Gale rolled her eyes and tossed one of the quarts to Frisco. The label read 'Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough', which was all Frisco needed to know. She barely even registered catching the spoon Gale threw at her. "Thanks."
Gale shrugged. "Jen's coming over for movie night, you wanna join?"
"Uh," Frisco flipped the top off her little snack, her smile instantly growing as she sighted the delicious chilly desert within. "What're you watching."
"Well," Gale smirked, "You like Flash Gordon, right?"
Frisco would've said something if her mouth wasn't full of icecream. Instead she just nodded.
"Well," Gale's smirk graduated to a full-blown Cheshire-cat grin, "If you like that, you're going to love Star Wars."
—|—|—
Battleship New Jersey screwed up her face as she neared the snow-covered Alaskan coast. In her short second-life as a shipgirl, she hadn't quite mastered the art of coming ashore. Transitioning from a fifty-thousand ton warship supported by her own buoyancy to… well, still a warship, but one compressed into the form of a young woman of indeterminate weight supported by her own two feet never failed to send her for a loop.
Of course, Kongou managed it without a care in the world. The Japanese fast battleship just glided from the gently lapping surf up onto the coast like she was strutting down a runway. The fashion kind, not the plane kind.
On the other hand, Musashi had even more trouble than Jersey did. The chesty battleship nearly face-planted into the snow, and the way her pagodas bounced had to be painful. Poor girl really should learn to wear a bra. Or… like… at least a shirt of some kind.
"Commander Jersey," a roughly humanoid figure bundled up in several layers of army-camouflaged snow gear greeted her with a warm, friendly accent. "Welcome to-"
Jersey held up a hand. The battleship carefully tested the snow under her feet with the tip of her sneaker, slowly building up the confidence to let herself sink though it instead of just floating atop it.
"Let her take her time," said Kongou with a bouncy smile that set all the rest of herbouncing. Jersey scowled. She did not need the extra distraction of unrestrained bongous right now.
"Okay," Jersey let her shoes bite into the snow, finally comfortable being back on land once again. "Now you may speak."
The soldier just laughed. "Welcome to Anchorage, Commander." He glanced over, his whole body tilting at the waist with a gentle swish of gortex and insulation. "Uh… is she okay?"
Jersey glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Musashi's face glowed beet red as she tried to get good purchase on the snow. Her towering rudder-heels kept skidding over the snow instead of biting into it, and she was having to squeeze her breasts down with both hands just to see what she was doing.
"Eh," Jersey shrugged, "This'll be funny."
"If you say so, ma'am," said the soldier.
"What's your name, kid?" Jersey planted her hands on her hips and carefully bladed her stance to Musashi got an unrestricted view of the American's leg-related superiority.
"Knight," said the soldier, "Corporal Jack Knight."
Jersey's head whipped around in a double take so violent she smacked herself in the nose with her own strawberry braid. "Wait, fucking seriously? That's your actual name?"
Knight offered a nod that was exaggerated by his heavy parka.
"Holy fuck," Jersey threw her arms around him and dragged him into a hug. A hug that, because of her towering stature, ended up shoving one very surprised soldier's face right into her cleavage. "That's fucking awesome, dude!"
"Mmuhpfh," replied Knight.
"Oh, shit, right." Jersey carefully let him go. "Hey, think I could get your autograph?"
"Uh," Knight blinked. Apparently he wasn't used to sailors who were also amazons who were also amazons who were also officers shoving him in their boobs then asking for his signature. "Yeah, uh sure. Just…" his nose glowed red, either from the cold or from a developing blush, "Can I get a selfie with you?"
Jersey shrugged. "I still don't know what that is, but okay."
"You're so old," teased Naka.
Heermann hurled a snowball at the cruiser while Johnston stared with rapt attention at Musashi's jiggles.
"You people are so weird," Knight shook his head as he tried to fish his phone out of his puffy pockets.
"Ships, not people," corrected Jersey. "Besides, we're navy willingly dropping by a joint Zoomie-Army base. Nothing here makes sense."
"Could be worse," Knight tapped away on his phone, "We could be Russian."
Hibiki nodded sagely.
"Hell yeah," Jersey smirked, bending her knees to make sure she stayed in frame. "'Merica."
Knight tapped his phone and captured the battleship's cocky grin. "Thanks."
"Anytime," Jersey rifled though her pockets for her logbook.
"So, uh… " Knight glanced over at Musashi. By the look of it, they'd be here another few minutes until she figured herself out, "How are you girls not freezing?" His gaze slowly drooped along Jersey's powerful, but mostly exposed, legs.
"Scarves," Jersey pointed to the Yellow fabric tied around her neck and stuffed down the front of her vest. "Duh."
Knight blinked. "Okay," was all he could say.
"You get used to it," said Tenryuu as she strolled by. "Hey, Skipper?"
It took Jersey a moment to realize she was being talked to. "Oh, uh, yeah?"
"Naka said you were gonna make a few calls," The cruiser held her sword over one shoulder, making sure her devil-may-care posture properly cancelled out her businesslike tone, "Want me to get the twerps settled in with Solette?"
Jersey glanced over at her Fletchers. Heermann was certainly looking better—stumpy little legs not withstanding—But still… it felt wrong to just leave her kiddos like that.
Or it did, until Heermann started shooing Jersey away with the back of her hand. "It's okay, mama!" she said with a cheery wave, "We'll be fine, you've got people to call."
Jersey was about to say something sweet and appropriately protective. Until she noticed the signal flags each destroyer was flashing. K-I-S-S-I-oohhh…. the little shits. "You know what, Chunniboat?"
"Speaking," Tenryuu flourished her sword.
"The shits are all yours." Jersey flipped her finger at the giggling little destroyers, then turned back so only Tenryuu could hear her speak. "You, uh… you'll come get me when they're about to set off, right?"
Tenryuu nodded. "Of course," she said, her voice far softer and warmer than Jersey'd ever heard before.
"Okay," Jersey clapped her hands together, the snow crunching under her shoes as she made her way inland. "Naka?"
"Hi Hi Naka-Chan, Desu~," the light cruiser bounced over to Jersey's side, somehow without ever glancing up from her phone.
Jersey blinked. "I'll give you a hundred bucks if you never say that again."
"Deal," said the cruiser, "What's up?"
"Still got a machine to lend me?"
"Oh," Naka's face glowed in a cheeky smirk, "do I."
"Right this way, ma'am," said Knight, "We've got a room setup so you can get out of the elements," he said as he led the little flotilla towards one of the nondescript buildings next to the rail line.
—|—|—
Naka smiled as she settled her laptop down on a heavy wooden table. It was beautiful, all brushed steel and red-backlit accents. The lid was subtly etched with a roaring dragon design, but none of that could even compare with what lay in wait inside the elegant chassis. "This," she cooed with the kind of dusky intensity usually reserved for luxury car commercials, "Is no ordinary machine."
She tapped the power button, letting the fans spin up with a low purr. Like a big cat stalking its prey or an F-1 car idling at the starting line. "Two-point-seven gigahertz core i7," Naka dragged her gloved hand along the keyboard with slow, seductive grace, "thirty-two gigabytes of ram, dual one-twenty-eight-gig SSDs with a one-terabyte secondary."
Naka tapped in her login credentials and let the glow of her carefully chosen wallpaper—an image of herself, Sendai, and Jintsuu posing in full combat regalia. Jintsuu looked particularly dashing in her samurai gear. "GTX nine-eighty with eight gigs of v-ram. This… this is no mere machine."
Naka drew her hands back to her hips, her glare focusing into a steel-hard dagger, "This is lighting in a bottle. A god of silicon and electricity bent to your desire."
Jersey stifled a yawn. "So can I e-mail with it or not?"
Naka slumped her shoulders. "Yes… Jersey… you can e-mail with it."
"Awesome!" The battleship offered Naka such a hearty smile the little cruiser barely felt her god-tier laptop had been slighted. Barely.
"So, I set you up in a virtual machine," said Naka, "you shouldn't be able to break anything, but if you do-"
"I'll come get you, don't worry," said Jersey. The battleship dragged over a chair and settled down in front of the gently glowing screen.
Naka rolled her eyes, "I'll let you get to it."
Jersey smiled, "Thanks, Naka. I owe you one."
"Yeah you do," teased Naka as she bounced out of the door and closed it behind her.
For a second, Jersey just stared at the screen, trying to build up the courage to do what she had to do. Then she stretched her arms before her, cracking her knuckles as she pushed herself into action. First order of business, open her e-mail client.
After a few minutes fighting with the touchpad—seriously, why the hell do people need a cursor when the command line works perfectly fine—Jersey managed to open the start menu. From there, it didn't take her more than fifteen minutes to get her e-mail open. To her surprise, she actually had a few messages waiting for her.
The first was a message from Crowning, explaining that a skype call does not, in fact, require Manhattan-project level technology and funding, and that he's always around if she wants to chat. Jersey mentally filed that bit of information away in the corner of her mind where she went least often and tabbed over to the other message.
But she still had one important message she had to send.
"Fuck it," breathed the battleship. She tapped on the icon—after a few minutes of furious cursing as she wrestled with the touchpad because the DAMN COMMAND LINE was too fucking HARD for SOME PEOPLE—and watched the program fire up. She quickly typed in her login credentials then… stopped.
Jersey stared at the screen and slowly chewed on her lip. Did… did she really want to bother the doc? Nagato had suggested it… but she also thought he was a shaman… Fuck it.
Jersey hammered the call button with her finger, then waited as the program chipped its annoyingly cutesy "attempting to connect" chime.
The battleship scowled and glanced down at herself. Her blue puffer vest hugged her body, but the insulation wasn't… well, it wasn't the greatest for showing off what little she had. If she was going to call the doc, she might as well let him get an eyeful. Jersey wasn't sure why she felt that was so important, but she carried on anyways.
She hurriedly shrugged off her vest and scowled down at her chest. Fucking… sports bra not making her tits big enough. The battleship grabbed at herself, squishing and squeezing as she tried to adjust herself to look more… battleshippy. In fact, she squished so intently that she totally missed the sound of the call connecting.
It took a cough from Crowning to break her concentration. Unfortunately, the battleship's focus was so precise the sudden break startled her, causing her muscles to tense slightly. Including the muscles controlling her hands. Which were currently planted on her breasts.
"FUCK!" Jersey yelped as her chest screamed in pain. "Fuck! Owowowowowowow!" The battleship panted as she ripped her hands off her chest. Bad idea. BAD IDEA, Bad Jersey. "Owwwwww"
On the screen, Crowning just let his head sink to his chest, his mouth quivering as he tried his hardest to suppress a smile.
"Fuck you!" bellowed Jersey, "that fucking hurt! Don't laugh at me!"
Crowning rolled his eyes, "I saw nothing."
"Oh," Jersey shrugged. "I am okay with this."
"So," Crowning took a quick sip from his beverage. He always did seem to have a drink of some kind when he was calling her. Weird. "How can I help you, Jersey?"
"Uh," Jersey hid her face in her hand, "I had a bad dream."
"A bad dream?" There wasn't a hint of judgement in the professor's—if Jersey was being objectively honest here—handsome face. "What happened?"
"I was, uh," Jersey shrugged, "I was in the middle of a frozen sea. Just… fucking ice for every direction. But there was this guy… just on the horizon, thirty-five thousand eight-hundred fourteen feet away."
"That's… precise," said Crowning as he furiously scribbled away on a notepad.
"Yeah," said Jersey. "But I fucking know it was that. Fucking… exactly, don't ask me how."
"I won't."
"Anyfuckingway," Jersey shrugged, "I ran it by Major Solette. He thinks it means I'm lonely or some shit."
Crowning leaned forwards, his eyes perfectly focused and intent.
"I don't buy it though," said Jersey. "I… I know what I felt, and it sure as fuck wasn't loneliness. It was… like…" she drew circles in the air with her hands, "Like I had to talk to him. Report to him… some shit like that."
"Uh huh…" Crowning leaned back in his chair. "Maybe it's Davy Jones?"
Jersey blinked. "Is that a joke?"
"I'm talking to a girl who's also a battleship," said Crowning, "I'm honestly not sure."
"Well… I'm going to assume no because that's spooky as fuck," said Jersey.
"That's all I got off the top of my head," said the professor, "Gale and I've been banging our heads against the wall trying to get the summoning going."
"Oh, shit, yeah," Jersey winced. Actual important war effort stuff. Way more fucking important than her stupid-ass dream. "How's that going?"
"Frisco's back," said the Professor, "And I've got no idea why."
"Well, uh…" Jersey blushed. Damnit, why'd he have to stop his actual work to talk to her… "I'll let you get back to it."
"Alright," Crowning smiled at Jersey, the kind of warm, comforting smile that made her just want to curl up and go to sleep. Preferably with something to cuddle. "We'll talk more when you get back."
"Over pie, right?" asked Jersey. "I think you owe me pie."
Crowning laughed. "Yes, Jersey. Over pie."
"Yesssssss," Jersey pumped her fist in the air.
—|—|—
On the other side of the world, a predator stalked her prey. The abyssal princess smiled as the warm waters of the south Pacific ocean streamed past her broad hull, flashing to ice as they kissed her raked clipper bow. It felt good to be at sea, to be free to roam and hunt as she wished.
The princess closed her eyes as the sun beamed down against her snow-white skin, her talons biting into her heavy belt armor. For too long she'd been kept from the hunt, forced to hide in the snowy crevasses, forced to look to the sky with fear, always worrying the next strike would be her last. Forced to let her prey run rampant while she hid like a driven animal. Alone, afraid, powerless.
But no more. She threw her head back, a thundering laugh echoing from her machinery spaces, a roaring twelve-part harmony of fury and pride. Her triple screws bit into the water as she cruised past the Solomons, angling through the placid waters of Samoa and Fiji to the haven of Hawaii.
Waters rich with prey. Finally, finally the princess would exact her terrible vengeance. The very thought of oil pouring like blood into the uncaring waves made her giddy. She would kill and gnash and fight. And she wouldn't do it alone.
The princess glanced over her shoulder at her beloved sister, a sister she'd never known. Fate had torn the two apart, and now it'd brought them back once more. Together, they would lead their fleet to glorious war, and the world would quake at the very wispier of their names.
The princess's smile turned downright venomous as her float plane radioed in. A convoy limping for what they so foolishly considered safety.
They would learn.
They would know fear.
And then they would die.
Hail Victory.
There were other times when she felt sorry for them. The way a destroyer's smile faded when she learned none of her division mates were back, the way Wash clawed at her stomach with shaking hands when she missed a meal… the look on Dee's face when she asked about meeting some of her old crew. Or the shadow that passed over Frisco's face every time she touched the ragged hem of her crop-top.
But this was neither of those times. Instead, the sailor was simply filled with uncontrollable, incoherent rage. "FRISCO!" she bellowed. Her boots thundered down the steps, pounding against the sheet steel like the hammer-blows of an angry god. She'd been close. She'd been so close.
Another time, maybe, Gale might have been taken aback by the maze of ragged scars tracing out from the cruiser's lean stomach down to her thighs and up almost to her neck. But not now. Now Gale knew nothing but pure incoherent rage. "FRISCO, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!" Gale's voice boomed out with all the fury of an angered E-5.
For an instant, the two naked shipgirls exchanged a look. Borie's dopey smile was a little dimmer than usual, and Frisco's face was a mask of uncomprehending confusion. "Uh…" The heavy cruiser planted her hands on her hips. She would've been displaying an awful lot of that lithe body of hers, but she had more scars between her knees and her neck than she had pristine skin, "Is this a trick question?"
Borie nodded sagely.
"Damnit," Gale seethed mere inches from the cruiser, her hand held up like a knife at Frisco's pointed chin. The cruiser didn't seem to react—to the angry NCO or the chilly December breeze washing over her very naked body. Then again, why would she.
The cruiser was taller than her by an inch, and with her clothes missing, it was obvious that there was very little of the girl's lithe frame that wasn't taut muscle. This is the girl who stood and fought against two battleships and lived to fight another day. What could one sailor—one sailor who she technically outranked do to her.
Gale's hand slowly closed into fist, her face scrunching up like a bulldog's muzzle as she tried to contain her fury. "Damnit, Frisco."
"Uh," Borie waved her tiny hand in the air, her face a strange mix of confusion and sorrow, "Miss Gale?"
Gale sighed, her body slowly pivoting on one heel to face the naked little menace. At least she outranked Borie, for what it was worth. "Yes, Borie?"
"It…" Borie glanced at Frisco, who wore the same inscrutable mask on those sharp Asian features, "It was kinda my idea."
Gale sighed, her anger slowly bleeding off as the chilly breeze cooled her heels. "Of course it was."
"'m sorry," mumbled Borie.
Gale let out an angry huff in response.
"It's okay," said Wash. The battleship shrugged her jacket off, revealing a heather gray turtleneck that she just barely managed to fit into. Gale would've drooled if her fury hadn't boiled it all away. The way her… torpedo bulges moved when she dropped to a crouch… Gale couldn't have torn her eyes away with a steam catapult.
"You were just having fun," said the battleship as she draped her jacket over the destroyer's tiny frame. "hm?"
"Sorry anyway," said Borie. The little destroyer leaned in for a hug, her face all but disappearing into Wash's soft chest. A chest Gale'd been so… damn… close to.
"I forgive you, Borie." The battleship planted a gentle kiss on the destroyer's head, then nodded to Gale.
"Oh, uh," Borie clutched her hands together as she shuffled over, her tiny body looking even more miniature as it swam in Wash's jacket. "I'm really sorry, Miss Gale."
Gale bit her lip. She was still furious… but… dammit, she couldn't say no to a face like that. "It's okay, Borie."
The destroyer just stared up with that wide-eyed stare of hers.
Gale huffed. "I forgive you."
Borie perked up, her face beamed with a toothy smile and she threw her hands around Gale's waist, hugging her tightly with her face squished into the sailor's tummy. "Thank you."
Wash smiled. "Now, let's get you to bed before Edsall misses you."
Borie let go, "Okay, Wash!"
The battleship just smiled that inscrutable half-smile of hers and offered her hand to the destroyer. As the two walked off, Gale could've sworn Wash was throwing a little more swing in those hips of hers, but… no. No, it was just the destroyer by her side throwing off her rhythm.
"Damnit," breathed Gale. She'd been so close, or… at least that's what she wanted to believe. As she played the memory back in her mind, she couldn't help but notice that shewas making all the moves. She asked Wash on the date, she'd been the one to ask for a kiss… Wash just stood there, smiling that half-smile of hers.
Maybe she actually felt the same way, but she could just as easily have been playing along, trying to spare the sailor's feelings. Hell, knowing Wash, she could've been utterly oblivious to the sailor's advances.
Gale's shoulders dropped, her fury evaporating like her chances with the stunning North Carolina-class. She was stunning, gorgeous, humble… she deserved someone who loved her like Crowning loved Jersey, not some sailor who'd drool over her tits like a midshipman at a titty bar. "Fuuuuuuck," she hissed.
"I, uh," Frisco's serene mask cracked. The tautness in her shoulders slackened and the hard angles of her features seemed to melt. "I'm sorry too."
"Huh?"
"That," Frisco motioned to the retreating battleship, "the two of you were having a moment, weren't you?"
Gale shook her head, "I… maybe?"
Frisco let out a long sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm a cruiser," she said. "Forget what happened at Guadalcanal, I'm not supposed to face my problems. I'm supposed to run from them."
Gale glanced up, her fury replaced by confusion and frustration, "What?"
"The briefing," said Frisco. Her scars burned a pale off-blue in the cold December air, and a shiver ran down her spine. "We're… we're not doing so hot. It's like Pearl all over again, except…" the cruiser trailed off as another shiver shot down her lithe body.
"Except what?" Gale shoved her hands into her pockets, watching the way Frisco's naked body tensed with every gust of chilly wind. She'd never seen a girl quite like that. The Destroyers were all little, but they had the chubby-cheeked energy of schoolgirls, and the battleships were grown—very very grown in certain… areas—women, almost seagoing goddesses. But Frisco… the more Gale looked at her, the more frail the sinewy woman looked.
"Except before I knew we'd win," said Frisco. "The Japs could sink every ship in the fleet ten times over and we'd still drown them in steel. Now we're getting just a trickle of…" she glanced down at herself, "Well… us. And nobody seems to know how to open the floodgates."
"Yeah," Gale scowled. "We're uh… we're working on it." The sailor winced as Frisco shivered again, her scars all the more obvious as her skin paled in the cold. "You, uh… wanna go inside?"
Frisco nodded, "Yeah, please."
Gale sighed. A few seconds ago she was inches away from tearing Frisco a new asshole with nothing but the fury of her voice. Now she was inviting the girl inside. "Where's your uniform?"
"At the docks." The cruiser hugged herself tightly, her chest barely peeking out from the crossed sinews of her scarred arms. "I didn't, I didn't take the news well." She blew a loose chunk of coal-black hair out of her eyes, "Figured a nice long shower would help."
"And that's when Borie found you?" Gale couldn't help but smile as she fumbled with her keys.
Frisco nodded. "She figured a little run might cheer me up."
"She means well," said Gale. "She's a little shit, but she means well." The sailor shrugged her door open and ducked into her little on-base apartment. "I'll find you something to wear."
Frisco smiled, her toes curling into the thick gray carpet. "Thanks." She thought for a second, then added, "I don't need a bra, do I?"
"I dunno, do you?" Gale was already busily digging though her closet for something to loan.
Frisco glanced down at her chest, inspecting her own body with the kind of detached professionalism usually only seen by surgeons or ordnance board members. "I'm not actually sure."
"Then you don't," said Gale. The sailor tossed Frisco her new outfit, a pair of soft fleecy pajama pants and a nice T-shirt with two icosahedrons showing 20 and the caption 'yes, they're natural.' Frisco wasn't sure what that meant, but the shirt fit her well enough and the 20's were nicely centered over her breasts.
"Thanks," Frisco smiled, her hips swishing back and forth as she admired the way the soft cloth felt against her skin—or at least the bits of her skin that still had some feeling.
"Yeah, no problem." Gale walked over to what Frisco instantly recognized as a refrigerator. The sailor dug around inside for a few seconds, only to return with two quart-sized containers. "You like ice cream?"
Frisco blinked. "Okay… for real. Is this a trick question?"
Gale rolled her eyes and tossed one of the quarts to Frisco. The label read 'Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough', which was all Frisco needed to know. She barely even registered catching the spoon Gale threw at her. "Thanks."
Gale shrugged. "Jen's coming over for movie night, you wanna join?"
"Uh," Frisco flipped the top off her little snack, her smile instantly growing as she sighted the delicious chilly desert within. "What're you watching."
"Well," Gale smirked, "You like Flash Gordon, right?"
Frisco would've said something if her mouth wasn't full of icecream. Instead she just nodded.
"Well," Gale's smirk graduated to a full-blown Cheshire-cat grin, "If you like that, you're going to love Star Wars."
—|—|—
Battleship New Jersey screwed up her face as she neared the snow-covered Alaskan coast. In her short second-life as a shipgirl, she hadn't quite mastered the art of coming ashore. Transitioning from a fifty-thousand ton warship supported by her own buoyancy to… well, still a warship, but one compressed into the form of a young woman of indeterminate weight supported by her own two feet never failed to send her for a loop.
Of course, Kongou managed it without a care in the world. The Japanese fast battleship just glided from the gently lapping surf up onto the coast like she was strutting down a runway. The fashion kind, not the plane kind.
On the other hand, Musashi had even more trouble than Jersey did. The chesty battleship nearly face-planted into the snow, and the way her pagodas bounced had to be painful. Poor girl really should learn to wear a bra. Or… like… at least a shirt of some kind.
"Commander Jersey," a roughly humanoid figure bundled up in several layers of army-camouflaged snow gear greeted her with a warm, friendly accent. "Welcome to-"
Jersey held up a hand. The battleship carefully tested the snow under her feet with the tip of her sneaker, slowly building up the confidence to let herself sink though it instead of just floating atop it.
"Let her take her time," said Kongou with a bouncy smile that set all the rest of herbouncing. Jersey scowled. She did not need the extra distraction of unrestrained bongous right now.
"Okay," Jersey let her shoes bite into the snow, finally comfortable being back on land once again. "Now you may speak."
The soldier just laughed. "Welcome to Anchorage, Commander." He glanced over, his whole body tilting at the waist with a gentle swish of gortex and insulation. "Uh… is she okay?"
Jersey glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Musashi's face glowed beet red as she tried to get good purchase on the snow. Her towering rudder-heels kept skidding over the snow instead of biting into it, and she was having to squeeze her breasts down with both hands just to see what she was doing.
"Eh," Jersey shrugged, "This'll be funny."
"If you say so, ma'am," said the soldier.
"What's your name, kid?" Jersey planted her hands on her hips and carefully bladed her stance to Musashi got an unrestricted view of the American's leg-related superiority.
"Knight," said the soldier, "Corporal Jack Knight."
Jersey's head whipped around in a double take so violent she smacked herself in the nose with her own strawberry braid. "Wait, fucking seriously? That's your actual name?"
Knight offered a nod that was exaggerated by his heavy parka.
"Holy fuck," Jersey threw her arms around him and dragged him into a hug. A hug that, because of her towering stature, ended up shoving one very surprised soldier's face right into her cleavage. "That's fucking awesome, dude!"
"Mmuhpfh," replied Knight.
"Oh, shit, right." Jersey carefully let him go. "Hey, think I could get your autograph?"
"Uh," Knight blinked. Apparently he wasn't used to sailors who were also amazons who were also amazons who were also officers shoving him in their boobs then asking for his signature. "Yeah, uh sure. Just…" his nose glowed red, either from the cold or from a developing blush, "Can I get a selfie with you?"
Jersey shrugged. "I still don't know what that is, but okay."
"You're so old," teased Naka.
Heermann hurled a snowball at the cruiser while Johnston stared with rapt attention at Musashi's jiggles.
"You people are so weird," Knight shook his head as he tried to fish his phone out of his puffy pockets.
"Ships, not people," corrected Jersey. "Besides, we're navy willingly dropping by a joint Zoomie-Army base. Nothing here makes sense."
"Could be worse," Knight tapped away on his phone, "We could be Russian."
Hibiki nodded sagely.
"Hell yeah," Jersey smirked, bending her knees to make sure she stayed in frame. "'Merica."
Knight tapped his phone and captured the battleship's cocky grin. "Thanks."
"Anytime," Jersey rifled though her pockets for her logbook.
"So, uh… " Knight glanced over at Musashi. By the look of it, they'd be here another few minutes until she figured herself out, "How are you girls not freezing?" His gaze slowly drooped along Jersey's powerful, but mostly exposed, legs.
"Scarves," Jersey pointed to the Yellow fabric tied around her neck and stuffed down the front of her vest. "Duh."
Knight blinked. "Okay," was all he could say.
"You get used to it," said Tenryuu as she strolled by. "Hey, Skipper?"
It took Jersey a moment to realize she was being talked to. "Oh, uh, yeah?"
"Naka said you were gonna make a few calls," The cruiser held her sword over one shoulder, making sure her devil-may-care posture properly cancelled out her businesslike tone, "Want me to get the twerps settled in with Solette?"
Jersey glanced over at her Fletchers. Heermann was certainly looking better—stumpy little legs not withstanding—But still… it felt wrong to just leave her kiddos like that.
Or it did, until Heermann started shooing Jersey away with the back of her hand. "It's okay, mama!" she said with a cheery wave, "We'll be fine, you've got people to call."
Jersey was about to say something sweet and appropriately protective. Until she noticed the signal flags each destroyer was flashing. K-I-S-S-I-oohhh…. the little shits. "You know what, Chunniboat?"
"Speaking," Tenryuu flourished her sword.
"The shits are all yours." Jersey flipped her finger at the giggling little destroyers, then turned back so only Tenryuu could hear her speak. "You, uh… you'll come get me when they're about to set off, right?"
Tenryuu nodded. "Of course," she said, her voice far softer and warmer than Jersey'd ever heard before.
"Okay," Jersey clapped her hands together, the snow crunching under her shoes as she made her way inland. "Naka?"
"Hi Hi Naka-Chan, Desu~," the light cruiser bounced over to Jersey's side, somehow without ever glancing up from her phone.
Jersey blinked. "I'll give you a hundred bucks if you never say that again."
"Deal," said the cruiser, "What's up?"
"Still got a machine to lend me?"
"Oh," Naka's face glowed in a cheeky smirk, "do I."
"Right this way, ma'am," said Knight, "We've got a room setup so you can get out of the elements," he said as he led the little flotilla towards one of the nondescript buildings next to the rail line.
—|—|—
Naka smiled as she settled her laptop down on a heavy wooden table. It was beautiful, all brushed steel and red-backlit accents. The lid was subtly etched with a roaring dragon design, but none of that could even compare with what lay in wait inside the elegant chassis. "This," she cooed with the kind of dusky intensity usually reserved for luxury car commercials, "Is no ordinary machine."
She tapped the power button, letting the fans spin up with a low purr. Like a big cat stalking its prey or an F-1 car idling at the starting line. "Two-point-seven gigahertz core i7," Naka dragged her gloved hand along the keyboard with slow, seductive grace, "thirty-two gigabytes of ram, dual one-twenty-eight-gig SSDs with a one-terabyte secondary."
Naka tapped in her login credentials and let the glow of her carefully chosen wallpaper—an image of herself, Sendai, and Jintsuu posing in full combat regalia. Jintsuu looked particularly dashing in her samurai gear. "GTX nine-eighty with eight gigs of v-ram. This… this is no mere machine."
Naka drew her hands back to her hips, her glare focusing into a steel-hard dagger, "This is lighting in a bottle. A god of silicon and electricity bent to your desire."
Jersey stifled a yawn. "So can I e-mail with it or not?"
Naka slumped her shoulders. "Yes… Jersey… you can e-mail with it."
"Awesome!" The battleship offered Naka such a hearty smile the little cruiser barely felt her god-tier laptop had been slighted. Barely.
"So, I set you up in a virtual machine," said Naka, "you shouldn't be able to break anything, but if you do-"
"I'll come get you, don't worry," said Jersey. The battleship dragged over a chair and settled down in front of the gently glowing screen.
Naka rolled her eyes, "I'll let you get to it."
Jersey smiled, "Thanks, Naka. I owe you one."
"Yeah you do," teased Naka as she bounced out of the door and closed it behind her.
For a second, Jersey just stared at the screen, trying to build up the courage to do what she had to do. Then she stretched her arms before her, cracking her knuckles as she pushed herself into action. First order of business, open her e-mail client.
After a few minutes fighting with the touchpad—seriously, why the hell do people need a cursor when the command line works perfectly fine—Jersey managed to open the start menu. From there, it didn't take her more than fifteen minutes to get her e-mail open. To her surprise, she actually had a few messages waiting for her.
The first was a message from Crowning, explaining that a skype call does not, in fact, require Manhattan-project level technology and funding, and that he's always around if she wants to chat. Jersey mentally filed that bit of information away in the corner of her mind where she went least often and tabbed over to the other message.
Jersey had to restrain herself from just slamming the laptop's lid closed. Love? What the hell does she know about love? She's… she's a battleship, not a… Then again, if Alaska was going to Wash for relationship advice, she must be really desperate. Jersey couldn't let her little cousin flounder like that, so she typed up a quick reply.
Jersey tapped the send button, a slight smile on her face at the thought of her little cruiser-weight cousin seeing the perfect gloriousness that was Commando for the first time.
But she still had one important message she had to send.
With that e-mail fired off, Jersey sank back into her chair. On paper, at least, she should be done. She'd sent all the messages she'd planned on sending, and she even replied to one. But still… the skype icon hovered on screen. Taunting her.
"Fuck it," breathed the battleship. She tapped on the icon—after a few minutes of furious cursing as she wrestled with the touchpad because the DAMN COMMAND LINE was too fucking HARD for SOME PEOPLE—and watched the program fire up. She quickly typed in her login credentials then… stopped.
Jersey stared at the screen and slowly chewed on her lip. Did… did she really want to bother the doc? Nagato had suggested it… but she also thought he was a shaman… Fuck it.
Jersey hammered the call button with her finger, then waited as the program chipped its annoyingly cutesy "attempting to connect" chime.
The battleship scowled and glanced down at herself. Her blue puffer vest hugged her body, but the insulation wasn't… well, it wasn't the greatest for showing off what little she had. If she was going to call the doc, she might as well let him get an eyeful. Jersey wasn't sure why she felt that was so important, but she carried on anyways.
She hurriedly shrugged off her vest and scowled down at her chest. Fucking… sports bra not making her tits big enough. The battleship grabbed at herself, squishing and squeezing as she tried to adjust herself to look more… battleshippy. In fact, she squished so intently that she totally missed the sound of the call connecting.
It took a cough from Crowning to break her concentration. Unfortunately, the battleship's focus was so precise the sudden break startled her, causing her muscles to tense slightly. Including the muscles controlling her hands. Which were currently planted on her breasts.
"FUCK!" Jersey yelped as her chest screamed in pain. "Fuck! Owowowowowowow!" The battleship panted as she ripped her hands off her chest. Bad idea. BAD IDEA, Bad Jersey. "Owwwwww"
On the screen, Crowning just let his head sink to his chest, his mouth quivering as he tried his hardest to suppress a smile.
"Fuck you!" bellowed Jersey, "that fucking hurt! Don't laugh at me!"
Crowning rolled his eyes, "I saw nothing."
"Oh," Jersey shrugged. "I am okay with this."
"So," Crowning took a quick sip from his beverage. He always did seem to have a drink of some kind when he was calling her. Weird. "How can I help you, Jersey?"
"Uh," Jersey hid her face in her hand, "I had a bad dream."
"A bad dream?" There wasn't a hint of judgement in the professor's—if Jersey was being objectively honest here—handsome face. "What happened?"
"I was, uh," Jersey shrugged, "I was in the middle of a frozen sea. Just… fucking ice for every direction. But there was this guy… just on the horizon, thirty-five thousand eight-hundred fourteen feet away."
"That's… precise," said Crowning as he furiously scribbled away on a notepad.
"Yeah," said Jersey. "But I fucking know it was that. Fucking… exactly, don't ask me how."
"I won't."
"Anyfuckingway," Jersey shrugged, "I ran it by Major Solette. He thinks it means I'm lonely or some shit."
Crowning leaned forwards, his eyes perfectly focused and intent.
"I don't buy it though," said Jersey. "I… I know what I felt, and it sure as fuck wasn't loneliness. It was… like…" she drew circles in the air with her hands, "Like I had to talk to him. Report to him… some shit like that."
"Uh huh…" Crowning leaned back in his chair. "Maybe it's Davy Jones?"
Jersey blinked. "Is that a joke?"
"I'm talking to a girl who's also a battleship," said Crowning, "I'm honestly not sure."
"Well… I'm going to assume no because that's spooky as fuck," said Jersey.
"That's all I got off the top of my head," said the professor, "Gale and I've been banging our heads against the wall trying to get the summoning going."
"Oh, shit, yeah," Jersey winced. Actual important war effort stuff. Way more fucking important than her stupid-ass dream. "How's that going?"
"Frisco's back," said the Professor, "And I've got no idea why."
"Well, uh…" Jersey blushed. Damnit, why'd he have to stop his actual work to talk to her… "I'll let you get back to it."
"Alright," Crowning smiled at Jersey, the kind of warm, comforting smile that made her just want to curl up and go to sleep. Preferably with something to cuddle. "We'll talk more when you get back."
"Over pie, right?" asked Jersey. "I think you owe me pie."
Crowning laughed. "Yes, Jersey. Over pie."
"Yesssssss," Jersey pumped her fist in the air.
—|—|—
On the other side of the world, a predator stalked her prey. The abyssal princess smiled as the warm waters of the south Pacific ocean streamed past her broad hull, flashing to ice as they kissed her raked clipper bow. It felt good to be at sea, to be free to roam and hunt as she wished.
The princess closed her eyes as the sun beamed down against her snow-white skin, her talons biting into her heavy belt armor. For too long she'd been kept from the hunt, forced to hide in the snowy crevasses, forced to look to the sky with fear, always worrying the next strike would be her last. Forced to let her prey run rampant while she hid like a driven animal. Alone, afraid, powerless.
But no more. She threw her head back, a thundering laugh echoing from her machinery spaces, a roaring twelve-part harmony of fury and pride. Her triple screws bit into the water as she cruised past the Solomons, angling through the placid waters of Samoa and Fiji to the haven of Hawaii.
Waters rich with prey. Finally, finally the princess would exact her terrible vengeance. The very thought of oil pouring like blood into the uncaring waves made her giddy. She would kill and gnash and fight. And she wouldn't do it alone.
The princess glanced over her shoulder at her beloved sister, a sister she'd never known. Fate had torn the two apart, and now it'd brought them back once more. Together, they would lead their fleet to glorious war, and the world would quake at the very wispier of their names.
The princess's smile turned downright venomous as her float plane radioed in. A convoy limping for what they so foolishly considered safety.
They would learn.
They would know fear.
And then they would die.
Hail Victory.
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still_guns
For the Empire!
- Location
- Bridge of ISS Conundrum
Wut? Hail Victory? Now okay, could be a sort of 'For victory' kind of line (for glory, valour and honour-ability-ness)... but the way it's capitalised... maybe I'm just over examining this shit, but perhaps it's some evil part of HMS Victory... yeah this is probably stupid, but you know, so much of the original ship is gone, it's almost an entirely different ship.
Theseus's ship paradox (Trigger's Broom) anyone?
Okay, yeah, I'm just spouting bullshit now, I haven't a clue what the hell is going on anymore.
Theseus's ship paradox (Trigger's Broom) anyone?
Okay, yeah, I'm just spouting bullshit now, I haven't a clue what the hell is going on anymore.
Speculation on SB is thinking our new antagonists are Abyssalized Bismarck and Tirpitz.
- Location
- Just north of those yodelling mountain tribes.
Well, considering these hints:
I'd say marking the POV abyssal as Tirpitz is a pretty safe bet.
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
I still say that they're the H-39s though, especially as the only Princess class Abyssal we've seen was of a never built ship outside of a scale model. meanwhile, it was surrounded by Battleships that had been actually built. Then we got the Tosa, which... had the construction on it halted and thus never had a crew.
NuclearNickel
smug.jpg
- Location
- Bootes Void
The email made me laugh a solid amount, not gonna lie.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Whelp. Hope the one waiting for the Lonely Queen Of the North doesn't read this.
Oh absolutely.
Gale, you have my sympathy.
Lewd.
I like the sound of this.
And this part I especially like. Kriegsmarine BBs get to unleash their wrath, and they go fulfill the mission they were origionally assigned: Not to sink battleships, but hunt convoys.
Actually, it was semi-completed, launched, and towed out to be used as a target ship.
- Location
- Just north of those yodelling mountain tribes.
Ok, you've got a point with the part that the princesses we've seen so far all represented projects that were never finished. And since they started building two of the six planned H-39s but then stopped when the war started, the two sisters part still fits. But how does the "hiding in snowy crevasses" part fit for the H-39s?
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
One was laid down in B&V Shipyard in Hamburg, and the other in Deschimag Shipyard, Bremen. It can get pretty cold up there.
Yes, I know its tenuous, but it's the closest I could find that fits.
- Location
- 'Murica
I'll also point out that there's literally two battleships in the entire Pacific that can catch them. Jersey and Mo. The Dess sisters are a knot too slow (and would get their teeth kicked in if they tried), Tiger's the same, but worse, Wash's two knots too slow and suffers from extreme vibration if she tries to keep her speed above 25ish knots, the Nagatos are five knots too slow... etc.
The Littoros could on paper match her speed, but they're built for the calm Med, not the Pacific. In foul weather the Bismarcks will pull ahead with ease. Plus... they're kinda needed where they are.
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obssesednuker
Commander of 10 Million Men
- Location
- In the Kremlin, activating Perimtr.
Oh gawd, how am I going to translate that e-mail format to FFN. Dammit JMPer.
Also, Alaska (probably) trying to figure out how to approach Atago, lulz.
Also, Alaska (probably) trying to figure out how to approach Atago, lulz.
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Alternatively, because the two of them are sailing north out of the South Pacific, they were in the Antarctic Ocean until recently training themselves. Like how Hoppou sailed out of the north and was making her way south. When considering Jersey's dream, I am now wondering if the North and South polar oceans are somehow connected to the Abyssals...
FelOnyx
Love and Peace!
- Location
- Gunsmoke
- Pronouns
- He/Him
And technically true. Unless Crowning took Jersey's words to heart and learned how to fuck himself.
It's the only reason I can think of why the Bismarks would be abyssals. The abyssals don't have any shipping we know of, only the human nations, and German ships apparently MUST. RAID. COMMERCE!
(Seriously, Graf talks about it in her married line. If that's not obsession I don't know what is.)
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Wait. *rereads* ...Whelp, my drink is now all over my monitor.
She'll have to be extra careful she doesn't fall into the same void her cars do.
- Location
- 'Murica
They were leaving the Abyssal-controlled Solomon Islands. Where they came from to get there is left as an exercise to the reader.
HmmmmmmmMMmmmMMmmMMMmmmm
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
The Littorio sisters are trolling around in the Med, funnily enough. But none of the three- Impero wasn't completed, and thus is ruled out by BelBat logic -could help even if they were in that area. They have neither range nor proper seakeeping.
I just maintain that this is going to utterly destroy Hood once news gets from Tiger-to-Britain.
I just maintain that this is going to utterly destroy Hood once news gets from Tiger-to-Britain.
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- Location
- 'Murica
They're not fast enough to overtake Bisko, only keep pace with her... in perfect weather. The Biskos were built for the Atlantic, they can take anything the Pacific can throw at them. MedBotes... not so much.
It will, won't it?
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
There's also the issue that the only ships in that area right now are Tiger, Australia- of the blow up if someone sneezes at them generation of battlecruiers -and Haruna. Even if they pulled off an ambush, not one of them could win in a fight. Tiger's guns are more or less equal to Haruna's, yes. But Australia has neither armor nor firepower nor speed. And Bisko/Tirp are more than capable of flaying a Kongou alive, modded-WW1 design or not.
- Location
- 'Murica
Don't forget the rest of their battlegroup. Scharnhorst makes 31 knots, she can keep up with Derp and Tirp.
Kongou and her sisters/half-sisters are all WWI designs too.
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
And the guns on Bissy and Terp effectively eliminate the potential threat of cruisers. They have a lot more room for an OHKO against anyone without good BB armor.
...Extra fuck.