A/N What's this? A part two to an omake?
Also, wow this got big. 2.6
thousand words? This may be my longest chapter ever.
The sirens faded, drowned out by the distant cheers as Leviathan retreated back to sea, notably missing some pieces as he ran. Her spotters reported that the fliers were taking to the sky, following him out of the bay. All the while the rain fell, unending sheets pelted the city as she drifted.
She did it.
It cost her her life, what little she had of one.
But she did it, she won.
If only she'd be able to see it.
Dragon watched from one of her drones, orbiting high above as the parahuman below drifted towards the boardwalk, a massive slick of oil filling the bay around her. Deciding it was time to call it in, she opened a channel. "Colin, it's Dragon. I'm tracking
'Cruiser' 'across the bay." She reported, using their stand-in name for the unknown parahuman. "She's leaving a large trail of oil, and is showing little signs of life; she'll be washing up on the beach in a few minutes."
"Copy that Dragon, I'm on my way down. We'll be ready to take them." Armsmaster stated.
"Alright. I'm heading down myself, I'll meet you there." With that Dragon left her drone to orbit, transferring over to one of her more human-sized suits and made to land on the Boardwalk. Standing on the Boardwalk with some of the defending capes, Dragon stared out onto the bay as 'Cruiser' slowly drifted closer. Barely registering Colin arriving she was transfixed on the cape slowly approaching, she was close enough for her to make out details of her; and by god, were they horrifying.
The girl was up to her knees in water, trailing smoke as flames billowed from tears in her costume; and her body wasn't much better, she was missing an arm, deep gashes were torn into her torso; and that isn't even mentioning the state of the rest of her, her remaining arm was blackened and peeling from the bone, blood and sludge spilling from her wounds. Dragon had seen the reports, but seeing her head injury in person…
It was something else.
Closer she drifted, swaying and listing until she got close enough to the beach, where she disappeared in a blinding flash of light that had everyone readying for a fight. Taking to the air, Dragon hovered in shock as what stood in front of her was not the frail, broken girl from before, but a full-sized naval
warship. Plowing through the beach with a spray of sand the once mighty vessel carved a path up the beach, large trails of oil, smoke, and torn steel followed behind her. Great ruts and tears were cut into the hull, paint burnt and chipping from battered plating. Though remaining remarkably untouched by age, or battle was a number painted in large, white characters.
468
A quick search on the internet matched the number to a ship, the USS
Taylor. Listed as scrapped in 1971, though made quite the name for itself in the second world war; pictures of the ship and class, Fletcher-class destroyers, modified to match damages present, were a near match for the ship laying in front of her. With some modifications that didn't match any pictured from the US Navy, obvious field modifications performed by crewmen.
Honestly, Dragon thought, it was a miracle that the thing was still able to float,
and move under its own power. Holes were torn into its hull, turrets were peeled open like tin cans; the tower was nothing more than mangled sticks, and most of the rear was simply
gone.
"Colin." Dragon called on her radio. "I'm seeing some movement on the unknown, I'm going to investigate."
"Copy that Dragon, Alexandria will be joining you shortly."
Thrusters flaring she landed on the ruined deck, burnt wood splintered and buckled exposing the thin armour underneath. Stepping towards the turret ahead of her, her boots crunching splinters and clanking on steel. Running a hand along the punctured gun shield, she took note of the holes punched cleanly through from Leviathan, paired with obvious bullet holes, dents, and jagged cracks. This ship had obviously seen some fighting, fighting she couldn't begin to imagine.
Another thing she noticed, was the blood; it was everywhere, coating the decks and the walls, dripping from doors and pooling in dips.
She found a body slumped against the forward superstructure, the man was wearing a perfect, if heavily damaged, copy of a world war two Sailor uniform. The man was very clearly dead, the shard of steel embedded through his face and his missing limbs made sure of that. She could deduce that there were others lost to the wreckage. Of course that was when Alexandria arrived, landing next to her as she had her fingers digging into the man's head, trying to get a clear reading on anything identifiable.
"Dragon." The flier greeted. "What do we have here?"
Giving up on finding anything useful, Dragon stood and faced her ally. "As far as I can tell, we are standing on the wreckage of an authentic world war destroyer. Number 468, USS
Taylor to be exact, same as the radio transmission stated. Uniforms of the crew." Gesturing to the corpse now laying on the deck. "And surviving armaments." Pointing to the battered gun house. "Match with those listed for the Fletcher class destroyers. That is a standard five-inch gun, there should be another one above me; there should also be some anti-air guns by the bridge, but, as you can see, someone removed it. And this man, and presumably the others in the turrets, are wearing perfect copies of world war gunners uniforms."
"So what, we're dealing with a world war two master?"
"I can't say from what I've seen so far, I'd need to see more to know. Maybe we could try below deck?"
Wrenching doors open the two walked through bloodstained corridors, and braved steep, rickety ladder wells dripping with blood. At the bottom they found a new surprise, another corpse. From his positioning and obvious injuries it was clear his cause of death was falling down the ladder, what was weird was his dress. He was an officer, who died with a split shell near him; it was also clear that his body was simply kicked aside, others stomping on his corpse as they went about their jobs. "Strange." Dragon muttered.
"What?"
"Look at his uniform."
Stepping past Dragons suit, a feat all its own in this space, to take a closer look at the battered corpse. "It's different from the one on the deck, and that pin, I've seen it before." Alexandria mused, gesturing at a silver 'V' on the man's collar; the only marking identifiable on him aside from ribbons. "It's a… Sergeant rank, right?"
"No, this ship wouldn't have any. He's a Petty Officer, a repair technician at that. So, the question remains, why is a high ranking officer carrying ammunition?" Dragon asked, pointing out the damaged shell a few feet away.
"If someone like that is doing grunt work like this? I'd hate to see how the rest of the ship's looking."
"Judging from the state? Not well."
"Regardless, let's keep moving, maybe we can find some more about our mystery cape. Do you have the schematics for this ship?"
A quick dive through the internet and she had her answer, and more questions. "I do, for what good they will do. It seems every one of these were built completely differently. Where do you want to check first? I can get us down to engineering, or we can try to get to the tower."
"Which is closest?"
A once over of a few plans, and she had their route. "Looks like engineering should be closest, a couple decks and a few frames further down."
A few decks, doors, and collapsed corridors later had them standing outside engineering. Signs of damage were clear, the door was dislodged, burns covered the walls, and they were standing in about a foot of water. Though Dragon was very careful about observing the water level for any changes. Wedging her suit through the high framed door revealed the inside to be worse.
"Well, we found the crew…"
Blood and soot painted the walls and roof, the floor was covered in over two feet of water and oil; still hot from the boilers in front of them. And those boilers were a mess, two of the four had exploded, and the third was leaking water like a hose. The bodies they could see had injuries matching boiler explosions and flash-boiling,
not a nice way to die. "Damage is heavy, evidence of multiple boiler explosions." Dragon stated as she manipulated a body, the man's burnt and puffy flesh simply sliding off the bone in her grip. "Some of these bodies show signs of multiple detonations, while others only show signs of one. Seems the relief crew came in to get engineering under control again, and didn't bother removing the previous crew's remains."
"They literally worked themselves to death,
while standing in their crewmate's remains? Fuck."
"I agree. Come on, plans say there should be a way up top around here." Dragon said, waving an arm vaguely at the ceiling.
An excessively long amount of time, and the destruction of an escape trunk, later, the two found themselves on the deck again, behind the tower this time. Though it was clear that the hatch wasn't meant to open to the deck, the compartment around them was peeled open like an orange; visible through the missing walls was the forward funnel, torn to shreds as it lay across the deck, the after funnel was simply gone.
"I've issued a notice for bodies overboard, we'll probably be fishing corpses out for a while. Come on, let's check the upper decks." Dragon reported as she started hovering beside the wreckage of a torpedo launcher, waiting for Alexandria to join her.
Taking to the air the two bypassed the climb up the tower, signs of battle obvious even from outside. Fires raged behind portholes as smoke and flame billowed from holes in the superstructure, and collapsed decks had burst through the thin walls. Her thrusters flared as Dragon set down on the shattered ruins of the pilot house, the slanted deck shifting unnervingly beneath her, Alexandria choosing to hover beside her instead of walking.
Slowly they made their way across the deck, which had partially collapsed onto the gun deck. Shattered desks and ancient mechanical computers littered the room, and stapled to one of the remaining walls was another Sailor impaled on a jagged spike; a snapped M1 Garand embedded in his chest, another rifle was wedged under debris.
"Standing in the open and shooting Leviathan with museum pieces? They were committed, I'll give them that." Alexandria commented.
"Reporting all hands lost, no signs of 'Cruiser' or any living ranking projections." Dragon reported, before she paused, and added. "Requesting designation change from 'Cruiser' to 'Fletcher'."
"Approved, pending further information." Alexandria called into her own communicator. As Dragon gave her a look she felt even with her body's blank head, she had but one thing to say. "There were reports of a girl standing on water coming in from New York and beyond. She came all this way to fight
Him, and from her broadcast it seemed she wasn't expecting to return.
Least I can give her is a name."
"Very well, that's all we can do here. Dragon and Alexandria, we are now leaving the vessel under command of 'Fletcher', it is clear of immediate hazards. Requesting retrieval and burial detail."
Days passed by as DD 468 lay in ruin on the beach, the PRT were still swarming all over it like ants. Bodies and chunks were still being extracted from her depths, none were able to be identified; body bags were being stacked on the boardwalk next to a pile of recovered weapons and munitions, waiting to be dealt with later. Towering spires of mangled steel stood beside the wreck, cranes were busy lifting massive hulks of scrap and even entire decks away for crews to dig deeper. It was one of these crews that made the biggest discovery yet.
"We found her, we found Fletcher."
There she lay, buried under the remains of the main tower, was the girl of the week. Fletcher. Laying her on the wooden planks of the boardwalk, it was clear; she looked worse then they had expected.
Out in the afternoon sun her injuries were only highlighted, every cut, gash, and hole were on display for the world to see. Her right arm was basically gone from the biceps down, no evidence of it was found in the compartment she was; a hole was punched right through her chest, you could see her mangled internals through it; her legs were torn to ribbons, bone and muscle visible as the skin was peeled away; and that wasn't even mentioning the head wound.
By god, it was horrific to see up close. A slab of rusted steel was embedded deep within her skull, her skin had tried to heal over it; but just simply, couldn't deal with an injury that big. The only good thing that came from this, is that we finally had something to be identified.
Dental records matched closely with a missing teenager, semi-recent pictures of her matched their cape; and they had their name, Taylor Ann Hebert. Listed missing after…
"Fuck kid, all that and you still came to help this place? Better person than me…"
Listed missing after the murder of her father, Danial Hebert, on his way back from the hospital after Taylor's near-death experience with a prank gone wrong left her comatose. She was listed missing after hospital staff were alerted to sounds of fighting in her room, after security broke down the door they found her room empty. Signs of a struggle were evident, blood coated the walls and floor, and the window was shattered, bloody shards of glass littered the floor.
The situation was escalated after a crossbow bolt was found embedded in her bed, and coated with her blood. Follow ups state the case was taken over by the PRT, attempts at getting answers from them are frustrating. Answers are either 'case is resolved, the details are classified', or 'we do not have any cases from you'.
The corner report for her father aren't much better. Found with evidence of multiple impalements. Case was declared inconclusive and went cold, their house burning down the next day didn't help with that.
The cemetery was empty when Rebecca touched down at the gate, walking respectfully past the rows of graves until she had found the ones she was looking for.
468
Taylor Anne Hebert
1995-2012
"The Tin Can Terror"
She didn't know who had gotten that carved into the tombstone, but she found it hard to argue with the name. "You know Ms. Hebert, that your actions have caused quite the uproar among the ranks. Our trying to identify you and your crew revealed some…
interesting discrepancies among ourselves.
Honestly I've felt like cursing your name more than once from all the paperwork you've caused me. But, we've got a lot to thank you for, it's thanks to you that we've managed to route moles throughout our departments. All this because you just didn't want to let her win, because you came back. You've proven yourself to be one of the best kinds of people, the kind who do what they do because it's what's right, without expecting rewards or praise.
You're an inspiration to people Ms. Hebert. You and your crew." She said, her gaze trailing over the two hundred-odd tombstones, marked only with;
468
Unknown Sailor
