Shhhhhhhh shhhhhh... It's okay. It's okay... Control that salt... Shhhhh.... He's not here, don't worry. We'll strike back at him for sure. It's okay.... Here *offers tiny Murakumo* take it. We must not salt. That's De3ta's job. There there.
Um, De3ta, you might want to remove that part I highlighted in red for Chapter 6. It messed up your quote box.
I liked the different presentation style that you adopted for this one. It was a fresh new way to look at such a horrifying topic. One must not suffer alone.
Wat. Angkor Wat. CoD Pokemon Ship-Girls. And why no USN ship-girls? "Paul" doesn't want any American reader to get offended if Crazy Steve stabbed an American ship-girl in the head?
Understanding, horrible horrible Understanding, has set upon me.
Why British ship-girls? Why the Orion class instead of, say, HMS Dreadnought herself or the King George V sisters or the Queen Elizabeth sisters?
I recall that doujinshi artist Siirakannu had an AU KanColle starring ship-girls of the Orion sisters who fight ever-evolving Abyssal Princesses who flew and fired laser beams.
Imagine the sinking feeling in my stomach when I dared to take a look at the date of the earliest photo of Siirakannu's doujinshi that was uploaded to Danbooru. It's nearly two years ago.
A:AFS is into its second year. It started several months before Siirakannu's doujin. So the chances of him finding and reading Siirakannu's doujin is high.
If I am right, and how I wish I am not right...
This asshole has taken Siirakannu's Orion sisters and used them as antagonists for his story that Crazy Steve can mutilate and murder.
It's all right, De3ta. You're not alone. We're all suffering alongside you now. We are all a band of brothers united against the corruption that is "Paul" and Crazy Steve.
*begins numbly laying the keel for Reality Ensues part 02*
Going by her in-game art, in particular this one:
They do appear to be headlights, but I don't think she has conscious control of them. Instead, they appear to reflect her mood. The gap moe this generates is probably why she's the fourth highest level destroyer in my fleet.
Also, I'm pretty sure there's a story about glass houses and throwing stones relevant to this.
Going by her in-game art, in particular this one:
They do appear to be headlights, but I don't think she has conscious control of them. Instead, they appear to reflect her mood. The gap moe this generates is probably why she's the fourth highest level destroyer in my fleet.
Vocaroo | Voice message
Recording chapter 6. The reason on why i posted this first instead of the 5th one is because of the length at almost 30 minutes.
30 fricking minutes of me talking in two voices at once. Tiring, but hey, fun times.
During the London op, in which Kongou and the Royal Navy ship girls, under the control of the terrorist organization attacking London (did I mention that they not only created the Abyssals but have also brought them along for the attack?), Damon mostly saw action against the ground forces, though he ends up having to go toe-to-toe with Kongou later in the op, until Haruna manages to distract her, giving Damon the opportunity he needed to break contact and regroup. It's the ship girls that have to take them on the bulk of the Royal Navy girls.
Basically, the terror group is forced to retreat with their Abyssal minions after being overwhelmed by Damon's fleet and British forces, and they end up leaving behind Kongou and the Royal Navy ship girls. A good majority of them are returned to British control, but Damon selects Kongou, the Orions, and Wakamiya to add to his fleet.
So to say he mutilated and murdered them would be a very gross exggeration.
During the London op, in which Kongou and the Royal Navy ship girls, under the control of the terrorist organization attacking London (did I mention that they not only created the Abyssals but have also brought them along for the attack?), Damon mostly saw action against the ground forces, though he ends up having to go toe-to-toe with Kongou later in the op, until Haruna manages to distract her, giving Damon the opportunity he needed to break contact and regroup. It's the ship girls that have to take them on the bulk of the Royal Navy girls.
Basically, the terror group is forced to retreat with their Abyssal minions after being overwhelmed by Damon's fleet and British forces, and they end up leaving behind Kongou and the Royal Navy ship girls. A good majority of them are returned to British control, but Damon selects Kongou, the Orions, and Wakamiya to add to his fleet.
So to say he mutilated and murdered them would be a very gross exggeration.
Nah, the Red Army started using great quality 1943 onwards. You don't get a win as lopsided as Bagration or the Great Mud Offensive without a lot of good men.
Editors Note: This time I did the multi-person reading thing. but with like six people instead of two. Watch the carnage unfold.
Edit 2: I am so, so, SO SORRY MAMA! (AWACS)
EDITORS NOTE 3: I may redo this in a less...hectic manner at a later date, consider this the "Test," chapter. Or I might not, I've got another 199 chapters and counting to read I can't afford the delay.
==========================
Aaaand now I wait for oscar……..
OV:OKAY
OV:FUCKIN
I wonder-da fuck?
I've got no idea how to do the comment thing on the side so
Aaaand there he is.
OV: Yes. Here I am. Brace for shitposts.
IP: Hey, look. I can type too, apparently.
TRIPLE SODOMY.
IP: Oh dear.
Oh good he's doing that thing. Oscar we should do that thing. It makes editing so much easier.
Well, the production value's gone to shit but at least it's funnier and less depressing.
Okay oscar give ya'self an acronym so the lovely read can notice ya! I'd do it but fucck that it's my show! d;
IP: You guys had production value? Also, there's a moose in here.
OV: THERE IS THAT BETTER
I had "Production values," Oscar was a wild car.
Hfdt: What the dear fuck is going on.
Fuckin nonsense.
OV: OKAY, GUYS, WE DO NOT NEED THIS MANY PEOPLE IN HERE.
I disagree Oscar, why not for one chapter. The fucking madhouse edition.
Hfdt: Ok, if you guys need help just yell.
IP: Should I leave too?
OV: This….this is a terrible idea. AWACS, I pity your poor soul. Also, you lot can stay, I guess.
Terrible idea is my middle name! At least according to mom! ;V
OV: That explains so much about your conception.
Hfdt: Anyway, let's get this show on the road shall we?
.IP: What he said. LET'S GO AL-REDAY!
CHAPTER SEVEN!
Chapter 7: Second Contact
"Here's the list of data that I've compiled on the Cube," Murakumo reports, dragging a light pale blue panel with scrolling text over in front of Damon, who is driving the utility truck about an hour and a half after departing from Mobile, Alabama. Damon frowns at the odd holographic panel that now floats in front of him.
"...what the hell kinda sorcery is this?" he asks, putting his own finger on the panel and, finding that he, too, can manipulate it physically, drags it up above his steering wheel so that he can read it easily while driving.
IP: Cube? Also, what is up with the technology in this world.
Hfdt: <read it easily while driving. You should be dead. Sadly, I know from bitter experience not even death can keep you down.
IP: I mean, the guns are all apparently modern-day make, but I guess we have sci-fy hologram computers too?
Hfdt: It's like fallout, leftovers from the "old world". If said old world was filled with people who wanted to make military weapons look like woman and unreasonable ways to fight war.
Sammy Chase [USS Louisiana, Icywinter]: Of course, but this is literally cancer. I'm sorry, I could feel my powerplants failing me when I read it. Like… seriously.
Again, World ended in 2010 iirc. It's only been twenty years!
OV: *INCOHERENT SCREAMING* SO. MANY. PEOPLE.
SC: YOU INVITED THE ENTIRE SV CHAT HERE SO OF COURSE THIS WOULD HAPPEN!
*Watches everything burn* You have no idea how much fun this is for me.
IP: This was not my intention when I joined in and started typing, I swear. Sorry De3ta.
OV: AHHHHHHHHHHHH
Hfdt: I don't think bolding it in a very big font is a good idea. Then again this wasn't a good idea in the first place.
Greek: we're never going to get anything done
*Giggles* Oh hey greek's here to! OKAY! LEMMIE LAY DOWN THE GROUND RULES!
OSCAR CALM YA TITS,
Greek:
Thank you greek! Okay so one at a time! Label your posts with your name or acronym of it! Keep ya fonts the same size, if ya want bold or italics do or so I can edit that shit in.
Greek: *bails in favor of games*
OV: *Inhales* Alright
Okay, so, thoughts on the first quote winty?
SC: Aaahhhhhhhhhhh. Wait, hold on. So we have holographic technology in the… 2010s like that? That's… not possible. Suspension of Disbelief shattered. 0/10.
Good! You'll fit in great!
OV: The fact he's reading while driving triggers me. So hard.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. It's a form of energy that's exhibited in this special bauxite mixture. Apparently, according to the source files, its referred to as 'navitasium'."
Hfdt: Never understood Navitasium as a concept other than special snowflake energy. However, it does hold some plot importance.
OV: More made up elements. *Ding*
SC: MORE TECHNOBABBLE! YAAAYY. WE SHOULD JUST CALL THIS UNOBTANIUM AND CALL IT A DAY. In fact, every single time whateverthefuckium comes up or is mentioned we are going to call it 'Bullshitium'. You with me?
Hfdt: I'll pass.
SC: Aww. Fine.
OV: This fic is 100% 'Dickwavium'.
A better name would be "Bullshite," it rhymes.
SC: But that wouldn't fit with the IUPAC naming scheme...
But ya see, Damon would want that. And fuck Damon. D;
OV: Amen.
SC: I wouldn't go anywhere near his dick. That thing needs a containment zone the size of Texas.
IP: MOVING SWIFTLY ON FROM THE DISCUSSION OF THAT ONE'S PENIS.
OV: *Snrk*
Hfdt: Indeed.
There's a part where he explains this a sentence later, I just wanted to see how y'all tried to figure this shit.
SC: It is giving me a cascading warp core failure. Literally what.
Greek: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT'S GOING ON
"Navitasium..." Damon murmurs, his eyes scanning the text on the panel thoughtfully. "...I'm no linguist, but doesn't that mean something like energy in Latin or something...?"
Murakumo cocks her head slightly in confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about, so..."
"Never mind me. Anyway, this Cube...is quite something..."
According to the compiled data given to him by Murakumo, Damon learns that the Rubik's Cube, which they refer to simply as the "Cube" for lack of a proper name, is capable of granting Murakumo special functions that Damon hardly believes is even physically possible.
Hfdt: Lol, even in this story people with no education know latin.
SC: So he googled it up. Then translated whatever it was to Latin? Like… what. Also, this cube is literally the Tesseract. Like… this isn't even a thinly disguised expy. It's the tesseract. For the uninformed, it's the magical space cube that allow the Asgard in the Marvel Comics to power everything. Or at least in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
IP: Wasn't this written before that movie, though? Or was it after. I don't even know.
Hfdt: SC, hate to ruin your fun, but there is no indication he google searched it. It isn't the Tesseract either.
OV: I SWEAR TO GOD IT'S THE ALLSPARK. IT'S ENERGON.
IP: Bullshite claims for pretentious Latin! *ding*
GF: *still has no idea what's happening but he saw transformers references and is now interested*
IP: Also, I wonder what happens if you solve the magic Rubik's Cube. Maybe it erases the fic.
Hfdt: The cube is not the Tesseract or the Allspark. It's clearly what IP said.
GF: IP, if you solve it the universe explodes in confetti
SC: Actually. Navitas is 'the sailor' according to Google Translate. Using Occam's Razor, he probably translated sailor to latin then came up with the -ium ending.
OV: I wonder if he's gonna go on some intellectiual rant about this. I hope so. More food for my salt.
IP: Then why the hell is he calling it energy?!? *adds extra ding for incorrect foreign language use*
GF: remember, the author is a complete idiot
Hfdt: So this is what written cancer looks like.
So i just left for five minutes to make a sandwich and y'all have content done for me! Best plan!
OV: De, seriously, this was a bad idea. Not even joking, one or two people would have been fine, but this? This is just ridiculous.
IP: Also, the tense is bloody bizarre. Like, it's happening in the past the way it's written, but is actually written in present-tense? Or is that just me?
GF: I love how you guys are still freaking over this guy's inability to grammar and plot properly.
SC: He's misinterpreting it in-universe. The text said that it gave Murakumo and (later on, spoilers!) the other girls special powers. So it fits… if Damon didn't get it wrong in the first place. I guess. For example, it would unlock some additional subsystems that the girls have. E.g. Amatsukaze and her flaming gloves of death. Or if I was in there, extremely overpowered GFCS and radar.
Hfdt: (more spoilers) @Winty. You are partially right. The girls are built in with the powers already, the navi-shit is merely fuel.
"Just exactly what the fuck is this Cube?" Damon wonders out loud. "So you mean to tell me this thing allows you to deploy that...that Waterfall Shield or whatever, it lets you gain access to this navitasium stuff, and it allows you to fire projectiles using navitasium? Damn, if you weren't already overpowered, I really don't know what to call you now." Damon flicks the panel aside to Murakumo, who catches it and absorbs it back into her slender fingers.
"Hell if I know, dumbass. I'm just following what's written in the code...if it helps me, the better. Also, remember that the Cube seems to have a limited amount of navitasium. But it does excite me a bit...I wanna try using these and seeing what they can do."
"By limited amount of the navitasium crap, do you mean you have to recharge it, or what?"
"It appears that it can be replenished, given the parameters set forth by the storage unit within the Cube, but how and where we'll do that, I don't know."
"Then do you know how long you can use the Cube's energy?"
"An estimated total of one hour."
"That's not a long time at all..."
"An hour battery life? That's a lot, especially when I probably won't have a need to use it unless I have to. I understand the importance of energy conservation, you know."
Worse battery life than my fuckin Iphone, and that's not a high bar!
IP: An hour's battery life is no time at all, you twat! And stop being smug about knowing frakking third-grade science!
GF: That's better than MY
OV: 1 hour isn't even the length on one of my classes.
SC: And now we have our Magic Green Rocks. Except it's not green nor is it magic. It's just crap. And MC is still a shit for being snarky and failing.
Hfdt: Sometimes I wonder what's worse, the sheer toxicity of our ranting or the story itself.
SC: Why not both?
IP: Wait, good god. That's Murakumo asserting that an hour is a long time and being smug over knowing what the law of conservation of energy is. I couldn't tell because the start of the exchange was off my screen and he never identifies who's speaking after the first bit.
GF: The author needs to be slapped by with his
OV: Okay, sorry, but this is causing major technical prolems on my end. See ya, De.
own fic. The whole thing, printed out, stapled together with a nailgun.
Hfdt: @Greek He wouldn't care as he gives zero fucks about flaming and the sort.
SC: Remember the rant that happened on the 200th or so chapter's author notes? This man just does not care. This would have been prime parody material, but...
Hfdt: SC. I don't think we need to bring stuff from the 200th' chapter. For god's sake we are still on ch. 7
GF: THERE'S HOW MANY CHAPTERS!?
Hfdt: 206
GF: Jesus Christ does this guy have a life outside of this shitty ass fic?
SC: He's an edgelord. He doesn't need a life. Because he's STANDING ON THE EDGE
IP: HIS EDGE CUTS THROUGH TIME ITSELF SO HE CAN WRITE MORE OF THIS THING.
GF: For all I know he was birthed from the deepest depths of shitty fanfiction with the soul purpose to write Ambiance.
Damon looks at Murakumo. "While that may seem like a lot, and it certainly is more than enough for fights that can be ended within a few minutes, you've never fought a long, drawn-out fight before. What if we're pinned down somewhere for more than an hour?"
Murakumo stares back at Damon. "We're not programmed to fight those kinds of battles. Like, we're familiar with the concept of battles of attrition, but we're built to end conflicts and destroy opponents as quickly as possible. Preferably with one shot."
SC: What. No. No. No no no no no. Most naval battles took the better part of days. Does he not know of Guadalcanal? Midway? Santa Cruz? The things that took months of constant back-and-forth to win?
IP: I would like to have words with the designer of this program, because they failed massively in building a proper naval weapons platform. That or the design constraints they were given were terrible.
Hfdt: I would like to point out that while the strategic part of war remains to take a long time, the tactical part doesn't take very long as we have things like cruise missiles, Anti-ship missiles, anti-air, etc.
GF: In no way did this guy even do any research, he probably just winged it.
SC: Even in real life it would take much more than just a few hours. Even with modern technologies like missiles and satellite uplinks. Warfare is like a grinder; savage, brutal, primal, and it ends everything in its path or renders it so ugly it is just as good as dead.
IP: Now outside the fic's universe it's probably meant to be a thing to be pointed at so he can say "look, they're not overpowered!" or something. In this it also fails, because he'll either have the fight last less than an hour and the nominal "good guys" will win, or it will last longer than an hour and the "good guys" will lose for the sake of grimderp.
Hfdt: I think you're dramatizing it a bit too much Winty.
SC: I'm a writer. It's my job.
Hfdt: I wouldn't say this case is a good time to apply that dramatization.
GF: *shrugs*
SC: In the grimderpness of 2029, there is only derp. And no waifuism. This battleship is sad.
IP: And blooming bizarre methods of cleaning up radiation. But that isn't here right now.
SC: That hurts the biologist inside of me.
Damon smirks. "If only all our fights would end like that. That'd be lovely, wouldn't it. Besides, naval battles take a long time sometimes. Surely they programmed that into you?"
SC: No fucking shit. Shitty programming probably done by Microsoft or a subcontractor. *DING*
IP: Convenient thing for "TOTALLY NOT OP GUYZ SERIOUS" MC protagonist to be smug and right about! *ding*
GF: *DINGDINGDINGDING*
Hfdt: I'm starting to wonder how I got through the story when I take the time to look back at its quality.
IP: We all are fools at least once. Plus sometimes a thing only looks bad after you've seen better.
SC: It's called the reading hypnosis effect.
"Yes, but our top priority is to complete an objective as efficiently as possible. It's best to avoid drawn-out conflicts whenever possible. They waste resources, anyway, which, clearly in this world, are hard to come by."
The driver nods. "You're damn straight 'bout that..."
A run-down highway sign, blackened by debris and dirt, passes by, reading "Welcome to the City of Montgomery".
Hfdt: I just remembered we were in the south. This reminds me that we are gonna have FUN times ahead.
SC: DRIVE SAFE THE TEXAS WAY. Then the sign gets knocked down by a tan— Wait. Wrong series.
IP: Where's Montgomery again, and where is it in relation to whereverthehell it is they came from?
SC: Where did we start?
Huston.
SC: A trip of nine hours. Or ten, if you take I-10E. And this is assuming that the highways aren't littered with wrecks, like they would be in real life.
IP: And why is the sign mucked up, but the road is perfectly driveable? I don't think he's mentioned so much as a pothole.
Hfdt: Fallout Logic with a dose of handwavium.
SC: But even in Fallout you'd have hundreds of wrecks littering the roads.
Hfdt: Well, this world isn't quite Fallout as a substantial part of our government remains.
SC: I wish it was. That way it would at least explain the SCIENCE! This is just stupid.Inb4ENCLAVE.
His Post-WWIII Uber ride aside, I'm still bugged by those lemon cigarettes.
Hfdt: What do you do when life gives you lemons? You make cigarettes out of them of course! Then start giving them to children saying it's health like so many ads do.
Where's my Radical Camel to sell me them? WHERE IS *Googles* JOE CAMEL!
IP: As bitter as this fic - no, clearly not, otherwise Damon's mouth would have puckered and fallen off.
SC: Lemon lube. Heheheheeheheheheheheehe— *starts coughing* Damn it. There goes the secondary deflector dish. By the way, apparently these cigarettes are completely safe to smoke. No smoke, no particulate matter, no half-finished products that are carcinogens and/or poisons. Apparently in twenty years we will perfect the e-cigarette and distribute them to everyone. Because smoking is cool, guys. Don't listen to those anti-smoking ads. They're the product of THE MAN.
IP: THAT'S NOT HOW CIGARETTES WORK.
Hfdt: Anyway, let's move on. When IP starts getting pissed it's a sign things aren't going well,
IP: Not quite pissed yet. More befuddled.
SC: This is hurting the biologist in me. Like… I am actually soully (sp?) hurting so much it's translating into my riggings breaking down.
IP: "To dump your body in a convenient crater. Pull over."
SC: To make America Great Again. #votet— *is shot*
*Blows pistol barrel.* No stealing my meme jokes!
SC: GUNS CAN'T STOP—
Steel beams yes. *Shoots again*
"Murakumo."
"Yeah, what?"
"Have you ever thought about what it'll be like meeting other ship girls like you?'
"...what do you mean? What kinda random question is this now?"
Damon readjusts the cigarette in his mouth. "My mind likes to wander a lot, so I tend to think of a lot of questions like this. What I mean is, you haven't met any other ship girls so far. You've only really known me, given the circumstances. If we do find more ship girls who haven't been activated, I will override their chain of commands and control them as well. So naturally, I thought you might hold an opinion on that."
Murakumo holds her cigarette in her fingers to talk. "...I didn't really give it a thought, to be honest, until you mentioned it just now. I don't know...I don't know what to think about it just yet. I just hope they're girls I can get along with. I mean, it'd be bad for everyone if we didn't at least get along together, you know?"
"Yeah, that's what I'm kinda worried about too," Damon nods. "What if there's some tension between some of you for whatever reason...it's not something I want to deal with, given the worries that we have already. But I guess we'll only know for sure once we get like a posse going..."
IP: It'll be fine. He'll just stab them with his fucking brain-hack knife.
SC: Attempt to care about the girl he just facestabbed. Sadly in real life the girl would be dead and this scene would be very creepy and would belong in a horror movie, or the girl would probably deck him. While being dead. *ding* Unfortunately, this isn't real life. This isn't even fantasy.
Hfdt: I don't know what to say about the "posse" part other than it's exactly like Fallout with unlimited companions. That is if fallout was a game made on a shoestring and was filled with all matters of cancer.
IP: For the record, it's crap like that knife and its usage that gets me legitimately angry. Not cigarettes.
SC: There was apparently a romance option in the early stages of Fallout New Vegas that got canned. This is why.
The ship girl scoffs. "Yeah, I'm surprised you're actually assuming you'll get that far..."
IP: Murakumo here, redeeming herself for smugness over knowing that you can't just pull energy out your bum. Actually, can I get odds that he'll manage to violate that law he brought up before the fic is out?
SC: You could argue that Damon knifing her translated some of his personality into her. The implications are not pretty. And yes, odds are that it will happen.
Hfdt: It has and will continue. With that last statement I'll take my leave. I regret everything.
SC: Splendid. My inner biologist who minored in physics is crying even more.
"What, I didn't mention there's bound to be more ship girls in Charleston?"
"But you don't know that for sure!"
Damon's lips twist a bit. "Maybe not. But if not there, then where else?"
"Well, you could try visiting other naval centers. It can't just be the one at Charleston, can it?
There's dozens of us ship girls; who knows where they've all been shipped to."
"That's definitely a possibility, but we're headed to Charleston."
"If you insist, then..."
The looming, abandoned skyscrapers of Montgomery, Alabama are well within the truck's view now as it rolls along Interstate 65. Unlike the skyscrapers that Damon saw in Houston, these are still standing and appear to be in somewhat better condition because the city had never suffered earthquakes or aftershocks of any kind from the nukes, but people had abandoned it anyway to live either under the protection of the Southern Factions or be airlifted to government CCPL posts.
IP: Irritatingly smug protagonist continues. *ding* And of course he'll be right, because when is he ever *gasp* fallible? *ding*
SC: So he went on I-65. That's a trip of nine hours folks. Nine hours. On a good day. Why he didn't take the better part of four or five days I'll never know. Hey, maybe they could have had some actually good stuff go dow— *is shot again*
That talk and we'll be here all day!
IP: And again with the horrid tense choices. I keep seeing the descriptions in this fic being praised as it's strongest point, but they just bring my issues with the tenses to the forefront. Use bloody past tense, for God's sake.
Yes, leave the city intact to live in the boonies with Grand Wizzard Cletus, sounds like a great plan.
SC: You know, if it used the Fallout world's justification that they couldn't make the nukes have a high-enough yield (or predominantly used low-yield nukes, like in DC) this _could_ work. Except that they didn't and he's using real world nukes that can level entire cities.
*Sees hfdt leave* And then there were three! The stubborn, the stupid, and Winty.
SC: Always faithful, to the very end.
IP: Stubborn is a good term for me.
Trick question, I'm the first two!
SC: At least I'm the Winty. Wait. Waaaait. **I'M NOT WINTY!**
IP: Shall we carry on?
"It was a ghost town the last time I asked around about this place," Damon reports. "There's a possibility that we could get through here without any trouble, but - "
As if on cue, Damon and Murakumo hear a muffled blast that materializes as an explosion of gray smoke that engulfs one of the higher floors of the one of the skyscrapers.
" - that shit could happen," Damon finishes, sighing exasperatedly. "Man, that shit always happens."
"What kind of shit?"
"The kind of shit where you say something optimistic, and then the world says 'fuck you' and throws you the worst possible scenario."
"Uh, I hate to break it to you, Admiral, but...that's just called really bad luck."
"I'm already aware of that..."
Murakumo looks straight ahead keenly, trying to see if there are any unrecognized signatures that she can detect. "So what's the plan? From that explosion, we can assume this place is occupied by belligerent forces, but we don't know much else."
"Here's the problem. Right now, due to the city infrastructure and condition of the roads, we have to get through Montgomery to proceed onwards to Charleston. We'll have to leave this truck in a safe place where we know where it is and it most likely won't get stolen or looted, and we go in and check out what's going on for ourselves. Montgomery wasn't a hotspot ever before...maybe something big happened here..."
If you got to Montgomery so fast, why not go around?
IP: Who is blowing up skyscrapers and why again? And because that requires Damon to not show his skill at killing people, De3ta. And removes an action scene. And requires logic.
SC: >due to the condition of the roads
Why isn't this an issue on the I-95? I guess we perfected self-repairing asphalt and concrete as well in the 2020s and retrofitted all buildings with them.
THe Governor did *mumble mumble mumble* and so the road is safe!
IP: Seriously though. Why are they fighting in the top floors of a skyscraper? What earthly reason does a person have to go up there in an apocalypse?
SC: WE NEED A URBAN COMBAT SCENE TO SHOW HOW TACTICOOL AND SKILLED MC IS WITH A BIG GUN.
Even though we *already had one in the second bloody chapter*!
SC: SHUT UP WE HAVE ROOTY SHOOTY POINT AND TOOTY ACTION
*Tazes Winter*
SC: You're going to have to try harder than that, hon.
IP: Surely by now all the good stuff has been looted from up there? Unless someone's moved in, which is… Maybe?
SC: They're bored and they want to watch the world burn.
As they draw closer to the heart of the city, Murakumo suddenly lifts her head up.
"I'm picking up different audio frequencies coming from the city," she reports. "Gunshots."
SC: Thank you Captain Obvious. You must have graduated from the school of 'No Shit Sherlock.'
IP: No really there are gunshots. I thought it was a bloody demolition crew earlier. Also where was her head earlier then, if now she needs to lift it up? Was she inspecting the car's floor?
Mura has sonar headpiece I guess?
SC: Anyone could've heard gunshots. They're not exactly quiet. Especially if you're blowing things up as well as being in an otherwise deserted area. It's not like the video games that they're quiet things. They're loud and ear-splitting — literally.
IP: They are. If she's using special sound-detection stuff to listen for gunshots and is just now hearing them, I'd give good odds they're still on the other side of the city at an absolute minimum, best circumstances for the gunshots being muffled in effect.
I only say that in the way Crazy Steve presented it.
"So even Montgomery's become a shootout in the Wild Wild West, eh?" Damon mutters under his breath.
"Fuck it. We'll throw some more lead in there 'n call it a party. How many hostiles, do you think?"
SC: Why. Just… you were just talking about conserving ammo. And now you're saying that you're going to get into a turf war for no reason? No internal consistency. *ding*
IP: How do we know it's a turf war? Speaking of, how is he going to choose who to shoot? Is he just going to randomly shoot everybody?
SC: Obviously the ones who don't look as evil as the other dudes. Because that's how it works in video games, right?
"Estimating from the frequency of audio frequencies, there are at least eleven different contacts."
'Estimating the frequency of audio frequencies,".......wat?
IP: Poor grammar. *ding*
SC: … Frequency is the rate of occurrence of a certain action. So… that leaves absolutely no room for Murakumo to guesstimate how many people there are. It could be one person shooting their gun multiple times. Poor word choice. *ding*
IP: 'Course it'll be eleven people, and maybe a few with pipes or clubs or something. Because she's with the protagonist!
SC: I guess we use muskets in the future now, and guns like what MC has is rare. Oh, wait, no, everyone is carrying around automatics. Again, automatics are extremely wasteful, so why are we using automatics in a post-apocalyptic scenario? Especially if he's not with the government, who _might_ be able to supply their soldiers with adequate ammunition.
It's like he thinks her head thing Is a sonar….and that's not how those work regardless.
IP: I think passive sonar kinda does, at least. Pretty sure active sonar involves sending a sound out.
SC: Passive sonar does. I wish I had passive sonar. All I have is this thing called SCANFAR.
IP: Anyways, onwards!
"We'll assume there's a helluva lot more. Murakumo, your main objective is to assist me in clearing out this city of hostile contacts. Spare those who show no hostile intent or are not armed. You're authorized to engage anything that shows killing intent or retaliates to our presence."
"Orders received and confirmed, callsign Murakumo copies."
Damon pulls the truck off the highway and enters through the open gate of the Hyundai Motor
Manufacturing Plant of Alabama. Parking it inside one of its warehouses, Damon kills the engine.
"We're on foot from here, let's go."
They exit the truck, and Damon pulls down the truck bed cover to access the supplies stored in the back. He fills his Predator load-bearing vest with DMR magazines and tosses Murakumo her ammunition, one magazine at a time, which she fits into her pockets.
"Here, take this too," Damon hands her the MP5-K submachine gun with an extra magazine of 9x19mm Parabellum rounds. "You'll be my close-quarters guard for this run."
"What, I'll be watching your butt from people who get close?" she asks as Damon opens up one of the weapon crates.
"Exactly," he responds, lifting up the AMP DSR-50 sniper rifle. "It's time to put this thing to use."
SC: Pointless purple prose for the sake of titillating the one or two people who are into guns. I'm into guns and this is poor gun porn. He gives the destroyer a SMG. Which is okay, I guess, but why are we using a literal bullet hose in an apocalypse where rounds are presumably hard to come by?
IP: Okay, first off. Clear the whole city? You're two people!
We gotta purge this …..abandoned city….of looters I guess?
SC: Which is about 155 or so square miles in size.
IP: Second. The manufacturing plant. Why do we need to know it is "the Hyundai Motor
Manufacturing Plant of Alabama"? Why can't it just be "a manufacturing plant off the side of the road"?
SC: Product placement.
IP: The issues with the gun porn's already been covered, so skipping that, why would anyone ever want to watch That One's butt in any context? Only reason Murakumo gets a pass is because of brainwashing.
Another thirty minutes later, Damon and Murakumo are lying prone on top of a white building to the south of the Montgomery Regional Airport, overlooking the runway.
"It's a warzone out there," Murakumo says, peering through the pair of high-powered binoculars that Damon has given her. Damon observes the carnage through his variable zoom scope: two rival bandit groups, as it appears, had met and clashed at the runway of the airport, presumably over supplies of some kind. That was the main cause for warfare between rogues and bandits like them: since their lawless ways of life had made them grow accustomed to stealing for a living, they couldn't turn to trading posts or places of strong security to get what they wanted, so they had to scavenge like vultures. And oftentimes, they weren't always so friendly towards their own kind.
…..I'd say "Wouldn't this have been picked clean," but it's only been twenty years…...it should still have been picked clean.
SC: ONLY. Yeah, only two decades. Only seven-hundred thirty days.
Not even, 19 years iirc.
IP: Aaaand they teleported to an airport.
SC: Clearly Damon can also fast travel. *ding*
IP: Wasn't the fighting in a skyscraper? What happened to that? It's on a runway now.
SC: He's so pro he can accomplish sniping from +10 kilometres away without using computers to compensate for the Coriolis Effect.
"Can you check if there're more gunshot frequencies coming from deeper in the city?" Damon asks. "To be honest, I didn't expect them to be so close to where we parked our truck."
SC: Just say gunshots damn you. And… they were literally in the downtown area. Now they've rubberbanded to the factory? Or… to the airport? What are they doing in the airport?
IP: I still want to know what happened to the skyscraper.
SC: I'm confused. So… they went to the factory. They did the cock and lock montage there. Then they fast-traveled to the airport, which, I need to point out, is two hours by foot from where they started. Then the opfor teleported to them?
"I would, but the gunshots here are drowning out any other gunshot frequency,"
IP: So gunshots are drowning out gunshots, but you could still pick out gunshots earlier when you were further away when the sounds were overlapping and dissipating. I don't think that's how sound works.
SC: And this is why you can't rely on the frequency of gunshots to calculate how many people there are. Because they're using automatics instead of muskets now.
*Sits back down, sips* Okay so I've got enough provisions to last…..a paragraph.
SC: MAIN BUS C FAULT detected. :c
IP: Let's just put a ding on whenever we see frequencies mentioned in this fic from now on and move on, otherwise we'll be here all day. Speaking of, *ding*
SC: The world would become ding.
It already is
SC: Ding.
IP: It's not all ding yet, the fic is still comprehensible.
Murakumo shakes her head. "We'd have to make these guys stop shooting so that I can run more frequency scans." She turns to Damon, who turns the knob on his variable zoom scope. "But can you even hit them all the way from here? Even I can't target that far. Not with a weapon like this assault rifle, anyway."
Damon looks at Murakumo. "I'm not a sniper, but I'll try anyway," he grins devilishly.
She facepalms. "This can't end well."
Cycling the bolt action to load the first bullet, Damon smirks even harder.
"Whatever you're doing right never ends well."
The Ballistics Computer installed along the top of the DSR-50's variable zoom scope begins calculating the proper firing trajectories from Damon's and Murakumo's position to the airport runways where the fighting is taking place.
"Murakumo, I'm seeing a total of sixteen contacts out on the runways currently exchanging fire," Damon mutters as the Ballistics CPU confirms the sniper rifle as ready to fire. "Confirm."
"Sixteen hostiles...confirmed," Murakumo repeats. Her vision displays all sixteen enemies circled in red. "The group of hostiles to the left is winning out, so it looks like. It's now nine versus seven. Best if you attack the larger group so that you can even the playing field and create more havoc."
IP: Surprisingly, more than eleven hostiles. Unless that was a different fight.
SC: Again, this is why you can't rely on 'gunshot frequ—' *ding* —thank you— for accuracy.
IP: Look, I'm just surprised that that logic wasn't overridden by "PROTAGONIST POWAH".
SC: That comes later. Much later.
IP: Also, if you aren't a sniper why the hell did you bother getting a hold of a sniper rifle in the middle of a post-apocalyptic wasteland where you presumably can only find and carry so much?
He stole in back in chapter two after he killed the kid, and then mentioned the next chapter he has no training as a sniper.
IP: How can one "smirk harder"? Why does it almost seem like the author is trying to deliberately make his protagonist as intensely unlikeable as possible?
SC: [smirking intensifies to a magnificent crescendo]
"Exactly what I was thinking. Spot me; firing in three, two, one..."
Damon pulls the trigger.
PA-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!
The sheer force of the DSR-50 sniper rifle blasts the dust on the roof of the white building that Damon and Murakumo are using as their sniper nest away from the two. The fifty caliber cartridge zips across the airspace between the runways and the white office building and directly hits one man with a civilian model assault rifle in the lower leg. His comrades, before realizing what is happening to them, watch his right leg get flung about twenty feet in front of them across the runway, leaving behind a thin trail of bright red blood along the way.
"Hit confirmed." Murakumo says. "Target is down and will bleed out in roughly three minutes."
PA-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!
Another bullet rips the air apart and scores a gruesome hit directly onto another bandit's chest. This time, an entire corpse is flung twenty feet across the runway.
"Kill confirmed. The bandits on the left are confused, they don't know what's hitting them. They are beginning to scatter for better cover."
PA-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!
Another bandit falls, headless. The corpse falls awkwardly, and the Uzi in her hand goes off wildly, and Damon watches amusedly as another one of the bandits keels over from multiple Uzi shots to the lower abdomen.
"Collateral damage, best damage," he chuckles, readjusting his aim for another shot.
"Kill confirmed. I guess I was wrong, Admiral, you're a better shot than I thought you were."
"I'm cheating, it's because I had the Ballistics computer on my scope calculate the zeroing for this thing. All I have to do is point and shoot and wait for the bullets to get there."
"I didn't say I was good at sniping, did I? I wasn't under the impression that I was shooting to
impress."
PA-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!
One of the bandits, who was trying to drag the legless bandit away to safety amidst suppressive fire being given by the other band of rogues, suddenly twirls in midair in a large bloody mist and crashes onto the ground, motionless with a gaping half-circle poking out of his left side.
"Kill confirmed. Vital signs extinguished. The other group of bandits are now taking advantage of the changes in battle conditions and pursuing the group that we have attacked and are now retreating."
"Switching target priority to the new group of bandits."
PA-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!
The last bullet in the magazine catches two people at once because of their clumped positions, and not one of the bandits chasing the other bandits down the runway escapes with no blood splattered onto them and their clothes. Murakumo watches one of them even get his eye poked out from a stray bone fragment of a left arm that Damon's bullet had ripped off.
SC: … God damn it. First off, don't ever do what he just did here: use bold in prose. It looks stupid. Especially if you can't be half-assed to describe the action instead of using a stupid onomatopoeia?
IP: I dunno. I'm willing to more-or-less excuse him the bold, though I freely agree that it would work better if described outright. I have other issues though. First off, we have a weakness of the protagonist just flat-out eliminated for the sake of him winning in the form of the sniper training and the "Ballistics Computer".
SC: Is this supposed to make me feel turned on? Because it's doing the exact opposite.
He also chuckles at his shooting causing a guy to drop his Uzi to shoot his buddy, because Damon is a sadist.
SC: OUR MC IS A SADIST. Yaay. You know, this only makes it harder for me to accept him as a MC, irregardless of the fact that he's supposed to be edge and cool because there's no room for human kindness in the grimderpness of the 21st century.
IP: Also, the Ballistics Computer is bull. So what is it, aim assist? How does it tell what you want to shoot? Is it based off heat signatures or something, and is therefore also giving him where to aim his gun to kill every rat in the area?
SC: In the future, we perfected aimbots and gave them to ballistic computers. I, for one, welcome Skynet.
Oh god Copy past fuckup! Everyhting was on fire!
SC: ahh
IP: Why is there an office building in the airport? Or is it next to the airport? But I thought the fight was happening on the airstrip? That seems incredibly dangerous to have next to the place planes land. Hell with it, the place this fight is set is about as consistent as the surface of Cthulhu's pudding.
SC: Maybe he meant administration building…? I've fought in Abyssal realms that were more well laid out than this.
"Multiple confirmed kills, nice collateral. It's their turn to be scared shitless now, now that they really know we aren't taking any prisoners."
"No prisoners...that has a nice ring to it," Damon remarks, inserting a fresh magazine into the mag receiver and locking the bolt.
IP: If Damon ever offers to light fireworks with you on the Fourth of July, don't. Odds are he'll set your pants on fire for giggles.
SC: Good thing I don't wear pa— Are we talking about the british or american definition of 'pants' here?
Yes.
IP: Is it flammable?
SC: Yes. But if he lights my panti—
IP: Then yes. Both definitions.
SC: —I was going to say he's going to meet the business end of twelve sixteen-inch rifles. At the same time.
IP: ...Anyways.
"Bad news, Admiral."
"Oh?"
"I think one of them noticed where your bullets were coming from. Our position's compromised."
Damon observes the remaining bandits through his sniper scope, reading their movements and trying to decipher their intentions.
"Yeah. Even if they can't do anything against us - none of them had anything beyond AR-15 assault rifles - we need to scram. Let's move, Murakumo."
Damon quickly folds up the deployable bipod and straps the DSR-50 to his back with his MK-14 Rogue Chassis equipped in his arms. Murakumo hops right off the rooftop down to the ground, and Damon follows soon after.
"So what's the plan, Admiral?" Murakumo asks, following Damon out onto the parking lot. "Wait,
I'm hearing a car engine coming from the runway! It's headed our direction!"
"Might be one of the groups of bandits we attacked coming to get us," he muses. "Why they would assault a sniper position so recklessly, I don't know, but they're lucky we decided to reposition. Murakumo, go to the parking lot entrance over there. Use that polearm of yours or whatever that thing's supposed to be and stop 'em right in their tracks. I'll hide behind some of these wrecked cars in the lot and finish off the stragglers."
Murakumo nods, and they get into position. Sure enough, in a few minutes, a car that sounds like a Jeep to Damon comes roaring around the corner and begins to enter the parking lot.
"Do it," Damon orders.
A six-foot polearm with two sets of stakes shaped like the metal heads of pickaxes at the end crashes down on the Jeep right down through the hood, pinning it down to the ground where Murakumo swung it. Because most of the bandits inside the Jeep didn't bother wearing their seat belts, almost all of them are thrown forward, and the driver and shotgun passenger slump forward in their seats, their heads and front windows bloody from the crash that has given them severe concussions. The three remaining men sitting in the back attempt to exit the car, but Murakumo pulls out her MP5-K and guns down the one closest to her. The bandit that successfully exits the crashed Jeep manages to squeeze a shot from his Anaconda Revolver at Murakumo, but to his utter astonishment, a panel made of ice-blue hexagons form to stop the bullet's trajectory from colliding with Murakumo, and the bullet quickly freezes and explodes into tiny icy fragments to fall harmlessly to the ground. But before the bandit himself can even utter a cry of surprise, his head jerks awkwardly before his body keels over to his left and crashes to the ground, dropping his weapon pitifully and soon forming a small pool of blood where his head lies.
"Murakumo, secure that last bandit. Spare him...for now. I need to ask him a few questions."
SC: So there were more? I thought he killed all of them? He literally said 'No Prisoners'. Where did this unlucky dude come from?
He needs his daily dose of gratuitous torture obviously!
IP: Hops to the ground? Weren't you on a roof? How the hell-
SC: One of his enhancements/mutations apparently gave him unbreakable limbs. You know, if he didn't turn out like a four-eyed deformed zombie baby.
IP: Anyways, gun porn continues strong as ever - this fic is probably on a watch list somewhere, or at least I wouldn't be surprised if it were - and our bandits are also apparently idiots for the sake of becoming roadkill at Murakumo's hands. That or this is the *strangest* "wear your seatbelt" commercial I have ever seen. Including the new one that has time reversing after the guy face plants that's been doing the rounds recently. (Dating the Let's Read like a rebel!)
SC: Wear your seatbelt. Or else a shipgirl will ram into you. Results may vary. Consult your local military police for more.
"Roger that." The ship girl holds the door open and pulls out the last bandit, who is still dazed from the crash and very frightened by this girl who is apparently immune to bullets. He screams for mercy as Damon approaches Murakumo, who pushes the young bandit, who looks only slightly younger than Damon, towards him. Damon pulls out his Glock 37 and points it at the bandit.
"N-No! P-Please, don't kill me, I-I-I'll tell you anything you need to know!" the boy cries out, basically bawling his eyes out by this point.
"Huh, so I don't even need to ask you. That's convenient...alright then. Why was there fighting at the airport? I thought Montgomery was a dead zone for the longest time, so why're there fighting now?"
"U-U-Um - ! ! !" The boy stammers, trying his best to talk but unable to do so because of the unbearable pressure of having his life on the line.
"Best you take your time and talk, kid," Damon advises. "You talk, you live. Now answer me."
I wanna acknowledge these guys have done nothing to Damon at this point aside from fighting each other.
SC: Who's the savage here? I swear this is reading more and more like an adaptation of Heart of Darkness except our MC is Kurtz.
IP: The bandit "screams for mercy"? What, is he screaming "uncle" a lot? This is something you should be giving details on rather than this gun porn you've been doing!
SC: He's screaming 'FOR MERCY'. Isn't it obvious? It's _right there_ in the prose! lern2read n00b
Damon reads far too much like the kind of guy who'd cut off ears in "Nam and wear'em as a neckalace.
SC: So basically Kurtz. Again, Heart of Darkness. Or if you like, Apocalypse Now.
IP: Also despite the narration claiming none of them were wearing seatbelts, this guy is both still in the car and is just fine to be pulled out and manhandled.
"O-Okay, um...so...so...like...we...I'm part of a...a big bandit group," the young bandit tries to explain. "Just like - just like a - a random bunch 'a guys who got together 'cause they were tired 'a livin' borin' lives in those f-f-fuckin' CCPL p-posts. A-A-And then - jus' a couple hours ago - we ran inta some other bandits. Th-They were the ones who shot at us first, s-s-so we figured we'd give 'em a-a good ass-whoopin', and we were gonna, b-b-but you guys showed u-up!"
And for that, Murderhobo Damon killed them all, making himself enemies out of the survivors in the process.
SC: AND THE PROSE MAGICALLY EXPLAINS THAT DAMON, SAVIOR OF MANKIND, PARAGON OF HOPE, WAS IN THE RIGHT FOR SHOOTING RANDOM PEOPLE BECAUSE GASP THEY WERE RAPISTS AND PILLAGERS. Or something like that. Isn't that the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word 'bandit'? That or the IJA.
IP: Are they a "big bandit group" or "just a bunch or random guys"? One implies that they're a small army, the other implies that this fight was all of them, more or less.
SC: They're 'happy meal size'.
"So this isn't like a war or anything, just a small skirmish."
"Y-Yeah! A skirmish, yeah, that's it!"
"Is there any more of you out there?"
"Y-Yeah, but I don't know where th-they are! Honest! We lost r-radio contact with 'em just before we started takin' s-snaps!"
"What about those dudes who shot at you? Know anything about 'em?"
"N-N-No, I swear! They were jus' another buncha bandits like us! Nothin' between us, jus' coincidence, so we s-shot at each other!"
"So you're telling me there might be more fights like this deeper into the city."
"I-I guess so, yeah!"
Damon nods at Murakumo. "Let's get outta here. He's told us enough." Lowering his Glock, Damon turns and heads off across the parking lot to head east, then north to the city.
"Are you not going to do something about that boy?" Murakumo asks. "He looks like he could do something to us later."
"What's this? This is the same girl who told me I was a fuckin' murderer for killing a baby that
would've died within days by himself anyway, right?"
"Shut up. This is different - he was out there shooting at the other bandits. He could defend himself, so I see him as a potential threa - "
Suddenly, Damon turns around and fires a single shot from his Glock. The .45 GAP round knocks a sporting rifle out of his hand that the boy was trying to get out of one of his comrades' hands in the ruined Jeep. The boy, again screaming out in fright, looks over at Damon and Murakumo, and he finds Damon smiling back at him with a smoking pistol in his hand. Screaming again, the boy runs away for good, disappearing around the corner of the white office building.
IP: Ohboyherewego. Alright, first off there's Damon being Damon. Second off we have confirmation that this fight wasn't all of this bandit group, so they're a "big group" and I question how that'd ever be described as "a bunch of random guys".
Sudden Bloodthirsty Mura…...and she's still the rational one considering Damon.
IP: Thirdly what De3ta just said. Lastly the use of "screaming" is highly repetitive.
SC: [Sammy screams loudly in the background]
CUT TO:
Another hour passes as Damon and Murakumo infiltrate deep into the heart of downtown Montgomery. Now, they are hiding in the third floor of what used to be a tavern, peering out through the broken windows down at the streets below.
"I'm counting at least twenty hostiles," Murakumo whispers, keeping her voice down so that the men and women below don't hear her. "Why are there so many of them? Didn't you say this city wasn't that bad?"
"I did, but that information was already old to begin with," Damon replies, his marksman rifle at the ready. "But I'd like to know why there's so many too. Something's going on here..."
"Orders?"
Damon looks down the window at the group of bandits down at street level.
"...help me find out what they're up to. Once we find out what they're trying to do, sabotage their objectives."
IP: Well fuck telling us *how* they "infiltrated downtown Montgomery" in any way, shape, or form.
SC: Fast travel again. To get to downtown Montgomery you need two to three hours on foot, which I again have to remind you, is the only way they're going to be doing it if they still have the car over at the car factory.
Man, Damon really Does wanna be a shitty Batman. He;s even trying to make his own worst enemies! (Spoiler Alert: He does)
IP: Let us note for the record that they are currently on the third floor of a tavern somewhere in downtown Montgomery. Let's seen how much that shifts around as we go forwards. Also I am still irritated with the tense.
SC: There isn't even a tavern that matches said description in downtown Montgomery. Unless, you know, sometime in the future there's a reason to build a three-story tavern in downtown Montgomery.
IP: Maybe it's an abandoned building that was converted into a tavern after WWIII? Except the way he talks about this city there's no one around to do that. For some reason.
SC: Maybe it's where de3ta and us shitpost from. It supports the alcohol theory. Maybe there's a quantum bridge to the past here too?
IP: Actually, why is this city abandoned? Did he ever say?
SC: Nope. It's just abandoned like other cities in Fallout… except that they're usually abandoned because of high radiation levels or super muties hanging out in the wreckage, like in the Boneyard of Los Angeles.
IP: and we know that A: it isn't radiation or this city would still be irradiated this soon, and B: we have never seen a "super mutie" or counterpart, only bandits and dogs. So… city abandoned for literally no reason. *ding*
SC: Maybe they just ran away every single time Damon visited.
IP: Considering what we've seen of him, smart of them.
They wait out in the ruined tavern for another half an hour or so. Then, Murakumo's ears flash a low-light blue.
"Movement. The people down there...they're on the move."
Damon peers out the window again to confirm. Indeed, one of the bandits, presumably the leader, is signaling to everyone to follow him.
"Murakumo, ID that guy there."
"The one making all those arm gestures?"
"Yup."
Murakumo gazes at the man, a black man with some bandages around his head and over his left eye, armed with a double-barreled shotgun, and wearing a leather jacket and old jeans. She memorizes his visual appearance and profiles him into her memory database.
"Tagged and profiled. Now what?"
"We follow them. They're on the move, let's roll and see where they're headed."
"How? They're at ground level, and we're still up on the third floor of this old building. By the time we get down there, we'll probably lose them. Why're we even following them anyway..."
"I wanna know why Montgomery's become the next Gettysburg. Usually gang or bandit fights start 'n end with small lil' fights like the one we saw down at the airport," Damon explains. "By the way, we're trackin' 'em by rooftop."
Murakumo gawks at him. "By...rooftop?"
"It gives us a height advantage. It's a fuckton easier shooting down at people than up. If there's anything I can teach you about urban combat, Murakumo, it's that. We all live in a three-dimensional playing field, and whoever uses all three probably'll get out of a gunfight alive more times than not."
SC: Granted this is legitimate tactics, but… how are you going to cross the rooftops? And I don't think there are any buildings high enough to crawl around and not get detected from the dirt.
IP: Have you seen city skylines before? That is not something you casually parkour across! I don't remember them grabbing grappling equipment from their truck or anything. They'd better hope their quarry doesn't cross a major thoroughfare.
SC: Actually there aren't any. They're all single story buildings. There's like two skyscrapers and they're hundreds of metres apart.
IP: Huh. My point about crossing roads still stands though, I think.
Crazy Steve seems to be under the impression that he's ina an Assasin's Creed game all of a sudden.
IP: Also, "profiling". I'm not sure that word means what you think it does.
SC: Shipgirls have an in-built facial profiling system. For… reasons. *ding*
IP: Isn't profiling, like… Putting something about what a person is like, personality- and background-wise together? You don't "profile into a database".
SC: From Wikipedia: [Profiling, the extrapolation of information about something, based on known qualities, may refer specifically to: Forensic profiling is the study of trace evidence in order to develop information which can be used by police authorities.]
For the sake of my sanity i'll just write it off as "Bullshit Sonar magic".
SC: Sonar does _not_ work like that. If Murakumo had a modern radar system or combat information system this might make sense, but we're using World War 2 analogues here, correct?
This is Ambiance, I stopped expecting him to get this shit right on chapter two! Winty is the official fact-checker now BTW.
IP: In a whole crowd of bandits, only one person was moving his arms. And Murakumo does not appear to have recognized them as hand signals.
SC: Ships don't use hand signals. We only recognize flashing lights, silly.
IP: Flag signals are similar enough to get the same idea without cloth, surely.
SC: Yeah they are, but there are no flags so we get confused.
IP: Plus Damon flat-out threw out the idea that kanmusu are ships ages ago.
SC: Excuse me, but I am a seventy-thousand ton ba—
Damon and Murakumo reach the attic, and Damon punches open an old access panel to climb onto the rooftop before helping Murakumo up as well.
"We're at least forty meters off ground level. Are you sure we can still track them easily? Remember, I still don't have access to my GPS tracking script."
I'll just assume that the Shipgirls run off the shittiest version of Linux in this story.
IP: Or one of the more memetic versions of Windows?
SC: Windows 10.
Worse, Windows 8 Pre-8.1
SC: Whatever the Linux memekids use that force you to build your own shell?
IP: And now apparently Murakumo is casting doubt on the Mark 1 Eyeball at a distance of forty meters. Has a fog rolled in while I wasn't looking? Is it nighttime with a new moon? I don't even know anymore. For a fic praised for its descriptions, they are lacking.
SC: And Damon can punch open access panels. Fascinating. Those are made from metal, by the way, and are at least an inch thick.
It's actually a small gerbil robot in her head that runs on a wheel.
SC: That would be more reliable than the descriptions in the story at this point.
"You talk as if this's the first time I've ever done any stalking business."
IP: Murakumo still holding on as The Only Voice Of Reason In The Bloody Fic.
SC: Murakumo is literally best girl right now. I find it amusing how the MC treats them as annoyances though, even though he's getting called out on his constant violation of reality.
IP: Actually, being fair, she's also the only girl right now. Unless you count Damon's mom or the battleship from earlier.
Mura is the only female we've actually met holy fucking shit.
SC: I feel sorry for Damon's mom. She didn't need to die to birth this… evil… spawn.
Oh don't, she's also a bitch worthy of spawning this guy.
SC: So this fic proves the idea of trait transference across generations?
IP: Lamont, wasn't it? Geeze, I can't remember the name of the guy anymore.
SC: Lamarck, and he talked about how certain traits would be carried on if the parent used them. E.g. giraffes with long necks would pass on the genes to make long necked baby giraffes because their necks were long.
IP: Right, him.
Damon and Murakumo scale the varying heights of the rooftops of the buildings of downtown Montgomery, tracking the progression of the group of rogues down on the streets. Suddenly, when they hit an intersection, gunfire pops from three directions onto those bandits.
"Must be an ambush by those other bandit dudes," Damon says, peering over the edge to witness the battle. Several of the men and women from the first group have fallen already, but the ringleader and his remaining forces have taken cover behind old cars and vehicles and other urban environmental objects to return fire.
"I'm counting about a dozen more firing on that first group of people," Murakumo reports, quickly assessing the combat situation. "Don't you get the feeling that one group's trying to stop another from reaching something?"
"That's what I had in mind too. This isn't just a one-off skirmish, it's a goddamn war. One of these groups 'a bandits isn't goin' back home tonight...but that's how I want it. Easier for us to mop up..."
They wait for the gunfight to pass, but about eight minutes later, the volume of gunfire sharply increases from the north.
"Heads up, it looks like our first targets got some reinforcements," Murakumo reports again, profiling the group of another eight armed men attacking the ambushers from another street. "The ambushers are falling back, it's too much fire they're taking."
Soon, the gunfire dies down, and they can hear voices coming from the street as the two groups of bandits remaining converge.
"Can you listen in on their conversation down there? Seems like our priority target's talkin' a bit," Damon points his thumb down at the street, and Murakumo leans against the wall to detect audio frequencies. After remaining silent for a minute, the bandits, now as one big group, begin to move north from whence the reinforcements had arrived. Some of the bandits go to their fallen buddies and strip them of anything useful, like ammunition or clothing that hasn't been ruined, before moving on.
"Talk to me, Murakumo."
"They're talking about something they found further up north into the city. They just referred to as a cargo container, they didn't mention anything about what it contained. They're heading over there now."
"And now why would a buncha bundits be interested in one single cargo container?"
IP: @Winter Didn't you *just* tell me all the buildings were single-story?
SC: Yes I did oh Interested one. There is maybe one or two double story buildings. The rest are all suburban white-picket-fence houses.
IP: Well he sure doesn't *talk* about them like that.
40 bucks and a Dr Pepper it's another shipgirl, I can feel it in my bones.
IP: No bet. Kinda figured one would turn up the minute things started going pear-shaped. Also, "urban environmental objects". Call it rubble, for Pete's sakes.
"Uh, where? There's no more rooftops to scale now, now that we're at an intersection."
Damon points at the telephone lines that connect the buildings to one another.
IP: Was he in the circus at some point or something?
"Uh, no, what's that?"
"Good, then today's your lucky day."
Damon quickly stands up and runs straight across the thin telephone line over to the other section of rooftops to continue stalking their targets, and Murakumo simply stares after him.
"See? Wasn't so bad. Just make sure you keep your balance nice 'n straight and don't look down." Murakumo can see Damon flashing her a thumbs up, as if he is taunting her.
IP: That's not… You don't… Pass the alcohol, will you De3ta.
No Problem! Well, small problem. I'm drinking Dr Pepper.
SC: I have a painfully high alcohol tolerance. I might need an entire tanker to feel a light buzz.
IP: Thanks. Right, anyways… Sure, let's just sprint across a telephone wire, something not even circus acrobats who do this sort of thing for a living do, then expect the person who *didn't even know what tightrope walking was five seconds ago* to do the same! If she takes a pratfall I'm going to smash my head into the table.
"Well, if you wanna waste time making your way all the way down to the street and then comin' back up, be my guest. I'll be followin' these guys in the meantime since we can't lose 'em," Damon says as he disappears out of view.
"Tch...why bother running on a telephone line when I can just do this...?" Murakumo backs up and runs the full length of the rooftop to jump as far as she can. As she pushes off with her feet, the bottoms of her loafers pump light pale blue energy into the rooftop and propels her up into the air so that she clears the distance between the two rooftops easily and rolls cleanly to the standing stance. Brushing off the top of her AK-47, she spots Damon proceeding along the mountainous rooftops and follows after him.
IP: Damon is a prat, Murakumo is Super-man-woman as conceived by Mental Models from Arpeggio of Blue Steel, and the pursuit continues.
They follow them to a run-down car repair center with a large garage. Damon watches from the rooftop of a corner drugstore just across the street as the leader of the bandit group and what appears to be his second-in-command approach the garage door. The second-in-command, a man roughly the same height and wearing his long hair in a small ponytail and goggles, crouches down and lifts up one of the doors to the garage so that they can enter. The black leader turns around to his men and women and barks at them.
"Guard this place 'til we come back out again!" Damon hears him yell. "Don't wanna hafta do no gunslingin' fer the rest 'a tonight, y'all hear?"
Making the southern survivors/antagonists in a Post-apocalypse story creepy rapists to make your hero better by comparison. *Ding*
IP: How the hell can they tell which guy is the second-in-command? Is he wearing a nice big badge?
SC: The HUD gave it away. Remember, Mura can apparently do the CSI magical profiling thing.
IP: Surely it would be easier just to say something like "who seemed to be the second-in-command, based on how the bandits there were clustered around him" or some similar line of reasoning?
The garage door drops behind them with a loud slam, and the rest of the bandits begin to lounge about, tired from their little march through the city. Murakumo watches as some of them go to one of the three urals parked in front of the repair shop and cllimb into the back, emerging shortly after with what look to be fresh bottles of hard cider or beer.
"Real smart idea, drinkin' beer in a place like this," Murakumo hears Damon whisper sarcastically. "Buncha fuckin' idiots. I never did understand why people like to drink. All they're doing is drinking their problems away 'cause that's what alcohol does best."
IP: One, what's wrong with having alcohol here specifically, other than that this time it leaves them easier for you to torture and murder? Two, awfully tactless portrayal of alcoholism, a legitimate problem for many real people. It's something that ought to be understood and treated, not derided and use as another reason why your villains are worthless scum.
SC: He obviously wants us to do it sober. So to spite him, drink some more. Unfortunately I can't get drunk with one beer. I need ten. And regarding the alcoholism: That's an author tract I'm sensing.
I Do this *All* sober so fuck him especially.
IP: Also, De3ta. These spelling mistakes I'm seeing around are in the fic proper, right?
(Editor's note: I am not actually an alcoholic)
Some are, some are Google doc's being screwy.
IP: The ones like "cllimb" and "urals" - actually, is "urals" a real word? Spellcheck isn't picking it up. I assumed it was a corruption of "urinals".
"Are you done with your old man ramblings now?" Murakumo mutters. "What's the call now?"
"All bandits are cleared for contact - kill them all. But do not kill those two men that went inside the garage. You have them ID'd, right?"
Murakumo nods.
"Good. Spare them, but if they show signs of resistance, you can put one down. But we need at least one of them alive, both would be better if possible. If there's any more enemies inside the garage, they're cleared for contact as well. Once we open fire, kill all of them as fast as you can so that anyone inside the garage don't have a chance to escape."
IP: Damon, again with the killing. What happened to "leave no survivors" again? Or is it actually "leave no survivors, except when I wanna torture somebody"?
SC: Remember. NO RUSSIAN. Unless it can drive the plot forward.
This "Profiling tech," is just a way to let Damn make baseless assumptions and seem like he's always correct.
IP: Why does he want the second-in-command alive too, again? Surely anything he knows the leader'd know, and it means Damon gets to kill more people.
SC: Probably to torture later, knowing how he operates.
Murakumo readies her assault rifle. "Solid copy."
"On my mark. When I shoot, let 'em have it."
Damon peers out to get one last good look at the bandits' positions down in front of the garage. Twenty-five men and women, all armed with varying weapons ranging from simple .22 pistols to
high-capacity .12 gauge shotguns, are littered about the compound.
"Go."
Damon whips his MK-14 Rogue Chassis over the edge of the rooftop and opens fire, and Murakumo simultaneously follows suit. Their bullets immediately end the lives of six of the bandits before the rest scramble to cover and attempt to return fire. Damon and Murakumo duck back down to cover as bullets start flying their way, chipping off blocks and chunks of their cover steadily. Damon repositions himself further down the rooftop and pops back out to catch more of his enemies by surprise, killing one more and severely wounding two with direct hits through their guts and upper chest before being forced back to cover again.
"How many KIA?" Damon mutters into his mic. Despite the loud snaps of bullets whizzing by and the blasts of gun barrels, Murakumo can hear his voice in her ears very clearly, and vice versa.
"Ten KIA, with four more WIA," she reports, tossing aside a spent 7.62x39mm magazine and shoving another into her assault rifle.
"Good progress then, let's keep it up." Damon again pops up in a different area along the drugstore rooftop's edge, this time scoring three more quick kills with all headshots. Soon, as the surviving bandits realize that their numbers are dramatically thinning out, they begin running away.
One of them runs up to the garage door and bangs wildly on it, screaming for someone to open it so that she can get inside. Damon simply lines up the red dot on his CRS-468 reflex sight and pulls the trigger, and the insides of her head splatter against the garage door as the decapitated body slides down and crumples onto the ground. Murakumo fires a few more cartridges at the last few bandits who are trying to escape around the repair shop building, knocking them down before they can reach sufficient cover.
"Hostiles eliminated. Objectives now updated - it's clear to move up, Admiral."
"I hear ya - !" Damon locks the charging handle on his marksman rifle after inserting a new DMR magazine and jumps off the drugstore rooftop, rolling to break his fall once he hits the asphalt. Murakumo, too, jumps off the rooftop to follow him to the garage door, and Damon shoves the headless body of the bandit away.
"Is there a way for you to see if there's anyone inside?" Damon asks Murakumo.
"Hold on, I'll check for audio scans." Murakumo puts her ear against the wall to listen for any sounds inside. "I'm detecting footstep frequencies coming from about five unique sources. At least five more hostiles in there, two of them most likely being our targets."
IP: So Damon can just tell what sort of caliber gun someone has by looking at it from a ways away. Right. Fine.
SC: He uses VATS. By the way, isn't the Mk 14 just a modernized M14? That's a marksman rifle, not a long-ranged sniper rifle.
More Audio Frequency bullshit. *Ding*
IP: Love the description of the cold-blooded execution of the woman who wasn't even fighting back and just wanted to get away. Clearly necessary to the fic.
SC: Actually, apparently the Mk 14 Rogue chassis Damon uses is something FPSRussia demoed on his channel. And is a CQB weapon. He used it as a sniper/marksman rifle earlier in the fic didn't he?
IP: I confess, when he mentioned putting in a "DMR magazine" in I was wondering what on earth he was doing to that Dance Dance Revolution machine at first.
"I don't want to risk shooting our targets on accident. Can I ask you to use that shield of yours?"
"Of course. I wanna see how it holds up in personal combat, anyway."
"Good. Use that polearm of yours to make an entry; I'll follow up from behind. Got it?"
Murakumo nods. She holsters her AK-47 and expands her polearm.
"Just curious, do you, like, have a name for that thing?" Damon asks, pointing at her polearm.
"Er...not really, but it's supposed to be a representation of my ship mast."
"Is it okay with you if we call that thing the Mast, then?"
"...I guess. Breaching!"
Murakumo pulls back her Mast and swings it with a single left hand against the garage door that they saw their targets enter the garage shed through, and the door is hit with such force that Murakumo literally punches it off its hinges and splatters one of the bandits inside the garage who had been in the door's way against the far wall. The other bandits, their attention distracted by the exploding door, gasp in horror as they realize that blood is smeared all over the wall where the garage door collided with the wall. The ship girl then hops through to locate the rest of the enemies inside.
"Shoot her! Shoot her, fuckin' gawd-dammit!" the black ringleader screams, and they open fire with automatic rifles and shotguns. The bullets either ping off Murakumo's Waterfall Shield or explode into tiny icy fragments upon contact with the shield, and Murakumo proceeds to easily beat up the resisting bandits with her Mast. Once all the other bandits are eliminated, she faces the two remaining men, their targets, who are backing away from her, realizing that there is nothing they can do to her. They drop their weapons, and the second-in-command suddenly tries to run around Murakumo, pushing her aside as he makes a break for the garage door that is now doorless. Damon then walks in and socks him in the face, listening to his nose shatter into four different pieces and feeling the impact through his knuckles. As the man with the goggles lies on the floor, holding his nose and choking, Damon drags him back into the garage and rolls him next to the black man, who is being held by Murakumo at the gunpoint of her MP5-K submachine gun.
Uncomfortably pointing out that the ring leader is black….me smell some uninteded (Or intended) racial undertones.
IP: Why does the thing need to be called *anything*? Did he just get tired of writing "polearm"?
SC: Polearms are cool, what's wrong with him? It doesn't have a gun attached to it?
No gun, he can't get it up without one.
IP: I can't tell if he was referring to the bandit leader's skin colour or clothing colour when he called the guy "black". And - wait, "Waterfall Shield"?!? The bally hell did that come from? Has "Waterfall Shield" been used before elsewhere in the fic and I just haven't noticed?
SC: Why not both? And I've been doing some research. The DSR-50 he was talking about uses .50 BMG rounds. Why is he using an AM rifle? Why?
Especially after he mentioned how rare said ammo was earlier in this story.
SC: And .50 BMG IIRC is not readily available outside of the military, so where the flying frak is he getting ammo for the beast?
IP: Noting once again a lack of description in a supposedly high-quality-descriptions fic, the remaining bandits were simply "beat up", with no further detail given. And the second-in-command somehow managed to shove Murakumo aside despite repeatedly demonstrated superstrength. And we needed to know that Damon shattered the guy's nose in four places, rather than just that his nose was broken.
SC: Yay for ultraviolence.
IP: And the tense remains as irritating as it was at the start. Okay, I'm done now.
"Good work," Damon says, dusting his hands. "How'd it go?"
"Excellent. The shield works perfectly," Murakumo nods with satisfaction.
"...waddayou guys want?" the black ringleader mutters with hostility. "Hurry up 'n eitha kill me 'r lemme go. I'm a busy man, only death's gonna stop me from doin' what I want."
Damon smiles a small smile. "Then I think we can understand each other. I'd like for you to answer a few questions that I got, and I'm hoping your friend there can help out with that if he's able."
SC: So he was black. Okay, that clears things up a bit.
IP: No, it's the same descriptor as earlier. I am as confused as before. And as to Damon's actual actions, I concur with the ringleader.
DEAR GOD USE NORMAL WORDS! NOT EVERYONE FROM THE SOUTH SPEAKS LIKE THEY HAVE NO TEETH!
IP: And why is Damon going to interrogate the second-in-command rather than the leader again? Is it because he already started or something?
"First, what's going on in this town? I thought Montgomery wasn't known for gangfights. Is there a war goin' on here, or what?"
The black man with the leather jacket chuckles amusedly. "So I guess you ain't up-to-date with shit 'round these parts. It ain't jus' us, my dude. My crew 'n I've been rollin' across da South, livin' off da land. Originally, we stopped at Montgomery thinkin' we'd post up here 'n ambush the next party rollin' through da city. That was a few days ago. But soon as we got here, we be takin' all kinds'a bullets to the motherfuckin' face. We been fightin' ta flush 'em out. Our numbers got real thinned out 'cause 'a all 'em shootin's."
"Who are you fighting?"
"Dunno, my dude, jus' some otha random buncha bandits like us. Thought you was good down South. You ought'a know how it is down here."
"I'm aware, but I wasn't aware of the fighting here in this city specifically."
"I don't blame ya. But that's what's been goin' on, homie. All I can say."
"Mkay, then. Second, what're you keeping in this garage? What's going on in here?"
"Oh man..." the bandit chuckles and sighs. "I was hopin' y'all wouldn't ask that, but I guess there ain't nothin' much else now." He points towards the center of the garage. "See dat box there? See, when we first rolled in the hood here, dis garage was actually one 'a theirs. We took it over and been usin' it as a stronghold, y'all could say. That crate there? We got that from the local airport down a bit south from here. We moved it here yesterday, and me 'n Charlie here wanted ta open it up, see what it holds. I mean, muh'fucka, it's got 'do not open' all over da damn place. Why wouldn't a bandit like me wanna try 'n open it up?"
SC: And there's a shipgirl in there. Is the next chapter by any chance called 'Second Contact'? If yes, that's Amatsukaze in there. Stay tuned to see how he bullies her.
IP: Is that frakking knife involved, by any chance?
SC: Yes.
IP: Then it's already horrid and I would like to [CENSORED FOR FEAR OF BREAKING RULES]
SC: He does it to every shipgirl he meets.
IP: Repeatedly. Though I guess I shouldn't be talking violence in here.
SC: It's okay.
Taki' Bet's! Will h talk to her first or get right to the stabbing?
SC: Knife.
IP: Also yeah, the "southern drawl" is intensely irritating. And likely racist.
Damon keenly observes the box. It is a particularly large box, a coffin, almost.
"Murakumo, I'll keep an eye on this guy. Scan that box, and see if you can see what's in it," Damon orders. Murakumo turns and approaches the box as Damon draws his Glock 37 at points it at their captives.
"Uh, Admiral?" Damon hears her calling to him. "You...uh, you might wanna come see this..."
Damon approaches the black man and clonks him over the head with the butt of his Glock, knocking him out. Holstering his gun and hurrying over to Murakumo, he looks down at the big box again.
"What is it? What'd you find?"
"You won't believe this..." Murakumo stares with wide eyes at the box at their feet, "...but I'm getting a Smartsteel signature from inside this box."
"Smartsteel...?" Damon's eyes widen as well. "Oh shit...so there's another ship girl inside this box, too?"
Murakumo nods urgently. "It's gotta be. According to my databases, Smartsteel's only used to manufacture us ship girls. It's a highly secret technology that's never been used on anything else, or so that's what's programmed in my databases. So whenever I get a Smartsteel-positive ID, it's gotta be another ship girl like me."
Damon, without hesitation, grabs Murakumo's Mast and starting whacking away at the wooden box. After ripping off the front wooden panel, Damon and Murakumo peer inside to find a safebox that looks exactly like the one that Damon had found when he had first freed Murakumo.
"That's...the same kind of container...that I was in, right...?" Murakumo whispers.
"What else could it be..." Damon rips off the standing wooden panels and crouches down to lift the extremely heavy black safebox upright. "Gimme a hand with this, Murakumo..."
They lift it upright, and Damon again rips off the knob and disables the locking mechanism to open the safebox door. Inside the safebox, true to Murakumo's projections, is another ship girl.
SC: Yep. Amatsukaze. I feel for you already, little destroyer. You don't deserve to wake up to this reality.
IP: Sensor bullshite. *ding* What would "keenly observing" something construe? And wouldn't "look at" or "examine" work better?
SC: He doesn't want to admit he's checking out Amatsukaze.
Ninth Kagerou Class Destroyer, Amatsukaze. The image of a teenage girl either the same age as Murakumo or a year younger. Five foot seven or six, around there. A brown one-piece zippered short dress with a white collar, white linings along the ends of her sleeves and bottom of the dress, small beige scarf, and an ornament-sized tiny lifebuoy that acts as the dress's zipper. A few black straps holding up two metal rings that are clasped onto her upper thighs like rigging, going all the way up her neck and onto the top of her head and topped by a laughably tiny hat that looks like a miniature smokestack and is off-centered to the right of her head. Maroon thighhighs with white strips near the brim, and maroon high-heels with heels that literally look like rudders. Long, silvery-white hair going down past her shoulderblades and held up in twintails by two wind socks acting like hair tubes, the same color scheme as her thighhighs. A white glove on her right hand but not on her left hand. Like Murakumo before her, her eyes are closed, and she is not breathing.
IP: If you don't know who she is, why did the narration just tell us? And how the hell was the situation you found Murakumo in an emergency? *There was no one else there!!!*
SC: He was about to cut himself from the edginess.
IP: That's not an emergency, that's a desirable outcome. We might be rid of him then.
SC: To him it was.
Murakumo places her hand on top of Amatsukaze's head. "Hmm...okay, I see. Her name is Amatsukaze, a destroyer like me. She's a Ninth Kagerou Class, though. And...searching for activation protocol...there."
Murakumo pulls her hand away, and Amatsukaze's eyelids pop open, again revealing only white scleras and no pupils. And again, just like with Murakumo from before, her jaw begins to move, and a monotone, robotic voice begins to emit from her throat.
"Operating system initializing...
Retrieving system files...
Activating main power core...
Assessing main body condition...
Assessing equipment condition...
All conditions met and satisfactory. Ninth Kagerou Class Destroyer, Amatsukaze. Service number unknown.
System lock detected. Please speak your name, your reference number, and password to proceed."
Damon scratches his head.
"Ken Simpson, reference number 17,468. Password, ENIAC."
Murakumo looks at Damon. "This is what you went through to activate me, huh?"
"Yeah, it's a complete deja vu for me over here." Now, he pulls out his nanoknife and flicks down the nanoblade. "We need to get out of here ASAP, so this counts as an emergency."
IP: I believe you win the pot, Winty. And why do you need to get out ASAP again? Everyone else is either dead or unconscious.
SC: Because we're hot on his tails with Nagato. You know that it'll only end one way.
IP: He just didn't want to have to write Damon trying to convince the kanmusu to follow him, didn't he?
SC: Because talking and reasoning is overrated.
"Yeah, right..."
Damon slowly but firmly sinks the nanoblade through Amatsukaze's head into her brain. The flip-top panel again forms, displaying the percentage number again from 0 to 100%. Murakumo notices that unlike the time that she was hacked, the percentage is progressing much more slowly.
"Why's it going slower for her?" she asks. "Didn't it take, like, less than a minute for me?"
"It's because I have to bypass the security protocols," Damon explains. "I knew the information I had to speak to get past the whole name, reference number, and password. This time, I have to get past those first."
It takes Damon's hacking knife about six minutes to successfully bring down the security firewalls in Amatsukaze's system, and then, she blinks her eyes. Now, rich brown pupils fill the white empty scleras of her eyes, and she looks up at Damon and Murakumo as the fastenings of the safebox she is encased in release her.
"Amatsukaze," Damon says in a clear voice. "Welcome to the Fleet."
Then, they hear the sound of a gun snapping in place. Damon and Murakumo turn to the direction of the sound, but Charlie, the black ringleader's second-in-command, already has stood up and points his comrade's double-barreled shotgun at Damon.
"Whatever's in there - that shit's ours. Don't go thinkin' y'all can just waltz in 'n steal what's ours!" he roars, holding his profusely bleeding nose. "Die, motherfucker, die!"
The flash of the shotgun's right barrel blinds Damon before Murakumo can react.
I can only take solace in the fact that Damon is in pain.
IP: Nooo he's not. Because he's going to have Amatsukaze come over and save them, isn't he?
SC: Remember what I said about Amatsukaze having flaming hands? Yes. This is what is going to happen next. By the way, this would probably count as shipgirl cruelty. Or human cruelty. Unfortunately, the Declaration of Human Rights and Freedoms died in the atomic fired that scourged the earth.
IP: This scene is literally the only reason the second-in-command exists and wasn't killed by Damon, isn't it?
SC: Probably.
IP: And at least Amatsukaze didn't have to be awake for this one like Murakumo. Small comforts.
SC: This might be the first and last time it happens. I think the next contact is a bit more… vigorous. Poor Amatsukaze. :c
Well good job everyone! That was chapter seven! We only lost three people to get this far!
SC: Only 198 more to go.
There are 206 atm. *Swig*
SC: Fine. 199.
IP: That number is still growing, too.
SC: I'm probably going to make a flash program that ticks up whenever he updates. So that we can use it in the OP. Because dear god he updates like a madman. Unfortunately, none of it is very good.
IP: His update speed is the one positive quality I can think of right now.
SC: I can twist that into a negative if you want.
IP: Nah, thanks. Leave me something nice to think of him.
It's already negative for me!
SC: So, I guess we're done here. I need to go hug something.
Well at this point we've broken into 46 pages! Wooo! Let's send ourselves off so I can edit this by midnight shall we?
IP: Righty-o. See ya!
[Louisiana fires off a full salvo of her sixteen-inch guns that spells out 'DAMON A SHIT' when they explode into fire]
SC: See you guys. I'm going to go be a paragon in New Vegas now. Bye.
I'm going to go edit this and then sleep, because this lasted four hours.
