Remove ads

Kant-O-Celle Quest [a Kantai Collection game, transcribed from 4chan]

Reader mode
We're damn lucky to have Trace compile the quest posts here, its a pain to sort through all the anon posts to find Planefags.
 
Remove ads
Session #24 pt.1
  • Threadmarks

    • TWITTER: twitter.com/planefriend
    ARCHIVE: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Kant-O-Celle Quest

    "Chichi-jima is being bombarded," Goto says flatly.

    Shocked silence spreads through the impromptu CIC. "The – bombarding *where* with *what,* dammit!?"

    Goto speaks into the phone in rapid Japanese, and a few seconds later unleashes a storm of hideously angry-sounding invective before slamming it down. "They don't know. There's only one sizable settlement on the island; one of the mayors staffers said everyone was heading for the tsunami shelter before they lost the microwave link with the mainland. They said people saw gunfire out on the water, and others claimed to hear planes, but -" he shrugs helplessly. "Who knows?"

    "What's the defenses!?"

    "Few SAM batteries. Some 155mm guns on the hilltops. The airstrip's got a seaplane ramp, they've got a few US-1s for patrols... sometimes. We stripped all those islands bare to cover the coast, though."

    Your fists ball up in a moment of pure snarling frustration – last night you and Thomas wasted two hours and a lot of late-night phone calls to annoyed chairfarce boys getting their beauty-sleep to inquire about putting Iwo Jima's airstrip back in action before the morn. With abyssals focusing on major ports and populated coastlines; the island had been stripped of all but a small garrison; there's still fuel at the JSDF airbase there, but you'd have to fly in your own goddamn fuel trucks if you wanted to turn around Strike Eagles from it. It was only used for landing practice even before the war began and during the first few months of interdicted shipping, every forward-deployed force in Japan looted pretty much everything they could to keep operational.


    "What the hell are they even attacking?" you growl, staring at the CIC screen as Mustin and Fitzgerald's powerful AN/SPY-1s begin focusing on the area over Chichi-Jima. A few yellow bogey markers appear on the screen and promptly vanish and re-appear again; a combination of low-flying planes over craggy island hilltops and the abyssal's own refusal to play nice with radar.

    "The civilians," Goto says hoarsely. "They're abyssals. They kill people just to *kill,* Settle." He stares at you, his dark eyes like pools of ink in the shadowed CIC. "Settle, you've got to engage those fuckers."

    "With what!?" you retort. "Am I engaging fighters, or surface ships? What do I launch? Hornet doesn't even have her SBDs spotted yet -"

    "Send your goddamned fighters!" Goto says, his lithe body coiled tense as he resists leaping to his feet. "You've got them on deck-"

    "If those are just floatplane scouts and they've got a surface fleet-"

    "Then we'll know in 18 minutes rather than 30!" Goto snaps, thrusting his finger at the CIC's map – your first-phase planes are already 60 miles past Chichi-Jima, and your second-phase is still 60 miles (and thirty minutes at the 120 knot cruise speed of TBFs) distant. "Hornet can spot her SBDs while they're en-route in case they find ships."

    "Goto, if they've got subs out here, they'll see the planes and reverse their bearings to find us-"

    "People are DYING, Settle!" Goto snaps. "Kaga and Akagi's decks are loaded, I can't launch fighters – I just CAN'T!"


    It's 0500, and you're seriously discomfited by how little you know about the Abyssals' strength and dispositions.
    (Map by demetrious and Command: Modern Air and Naval Operations.)​

    You look at one of the PIP images; the one from Willie's go-pro. She's looking at Kaga and Akagi. Their quivers are full; the white-fletched arrows of their Zeroes; the green of torpedo bombers and dive-bombers jostling behind. Once the fighters are launched off the front they'll have to spot replacements; which will take precious minutes – and recovering them after will require breaking the spot. As long as their decks are loaded to the gills for immediate launch against the abyssal carriers, you really can't use them for anything else.

    But if you weaken your fleet's air-defense, the consequences could be devastating. Kaga and Akagi's CAP is nowhere near Hornet's equal, and you have *no* idea what the Abyssal's strength is – one deck? Two? Ten? And if the subs you suspect are lurking out there see the planes arrowing in from due north -

    - but as Goto said, people are dying.

    >It can't be helped. Launch some fighters towards Chichi-Jima now.
    >Refuse. Mass is key, and you'll be damned if you'll fritter away mass for secondary objectives. There's actual human beings and precious fleet assets counting on that air cover, too.
    >Insist on waiting for the scouts to reach the target – launching without intel is only an invitation to disaster.
    >write-in?

    41162573 -
    Is there any way to contact the JAXA station on the island? Some kinda secondary comms? Because if we could they would probably be able to provide at least some information about what is in the air with those fancy radars they use to track aerospace launches. Assuming it wasn't looted of course.

    41162584 (demetrious) -
    Good idea, I'll add that.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    >Refuse. Mass is key, and you'll be damned if you'll fritter away mass for secondary objectives. There's actual human beings and precious fleet assets counting on that air cover, too.

    You open your mouth to reply with the obvious – that 18 minutes there, 18 minutes back and god-knows how much combat over Chichi-Jima will tie up Hornet's flight deck in a few hours when she's recovering planes; right about when a max-range strike could be reaching your force with its air cover badly weakened. But the tortured intensity in Goto's eyes strikes a chord that thrums deep inside you; a dissonant minor key that sets your nerves on edge. He *knows* that launching his fighters will probably prove a mistake, but standing by while civilians are butchered - *his* civilians; Japanese citizens – is an agony which can hardly be borne.

    But you can bear it fine, can't you? Hell, you already have. That's *your* problem, not his.

    "Goto," you say, your voice tense and controlled. "Any aircraft have already shot their wad – they're RTB, unless they're a CAP for bombardment vessels. And anything that can bombard will be in range of those 155s, or damn near – the JSDF uses rocket-boosted projectiles, don't they?"

    He doesn't react; his dark, intense eyes boring into you, drinking in your arguments.

    "Tsunami shelters are basically bomb-shelters. By now-" you check your watch "-everyone's in a shelter or underground. I read the study on Nork artillery bombardment of Seoul – Japanese islanders are probably faster than Koreans at running for shelter when a horn sounds. Thirty minutes, Goto. I'll get Hornet's planes spotted and I'll be ready to *clobber* the sons-of-bitches when we know what we're up against and where they are. Hell, with eyes-on we can do bearing-only launches from Mustin and Fitzgerald, too – they're carrying the multi-mode Tomahawks, remember?


    Goto seems to deflate a little as he releases a breath you weren't aware he was holding. One second he's hovering stock-still, a dark, graven statue in the shadows, and the next he's animated again; human. "You're right," he says.

    "Doesn't mean I fucking like it," you tell him seriously, then turn back to the screen, keying your headset mic. "Hornet, I need your second-phase scouts to step on the gas – something's happening at Chichi-Jima."

    "Roger," she replies crisply. "My SBDs are armed – should I spot them? How much CAP am I putting up?"

    You flick your eyes down to the clipboard listing your Order of Battle. Hornet's carrying 28 Hellcats, 36 SBD Dauntlesses and 24 TBFs... eight of which are in the air as scouts, in addition to the ten floatplanes from the cruisers.

    >Spot a strike force; a balanced package.(12 escort fighters, 12 CAP fighters, 18 SBDs.)
    >Spot CAP with unescorted SBDs: You really, really doubt the enemy is maintaining a CAP over any surface ships, and they wouldn't be insane enough to have their fleet carriers that close to ChiChi-Jima. Defense first. (16 CAP fighters, 24SBDs with 12 in reserve, ready for a quick spot-and-launch if needed.)
    >Spot every fighter on your decks – Goto's girls have a deckload strike ready, and another belowdecks waiting to be spotted. Hornet's job is CAP – don't forget that.


    >Spot every fighter on your decks – Goto's girls have a deckload strike ready, and another belowdecks waiting to be spotted. Hornet's job is CAP – don't forget that.

    "Everything," you tell her. "Spot every fighter you've got."

    Goto glowers at you. "You just sa-"

    "Give the first eight drop tanks and launch them as the first CAP rotation. Give the rest 100 pound bombs," you instruct. "Just arm them on deck. If we launch them against fighters they can just ditch those after takeoff."

    "What about warm-up?"

    "Standard procedure; keep them turning. Don't worry about topping them off; if we need them it'll be very briefly and all at once." With the impressive radars of Mustin and Fitzgerald at your disposal, as well as Hornet's own historical set you can get away with some things your predecessors couldn't.

    "One-hundred pound bombs?" Goto says with a defeated sigh.

    "You've got *two* strike packages ready to go," you remind him.

    "We're holding those back for the enemy carriers," he retorts. "If I launch mine after some surface units and the scouts find the whole fleet not five minutes later, that's a good thirty to forty-five minutes till I can spot the second wave. It'd be Midway all over again."

    "Yeah, IF they're within forty-five minutes range, except oh, gee!" you point at the map. "That area of ocean was already searched. And if that happens, I'll just have Hornet put most of her fighters in the air, roll the ones in back forward and spot SBDs behind them to join your strike."

    "Yeah, that'll be a big help," Goto says dryly. "Let's just stick to our strengths, here."

    You fling your arms wide before poking pointedly at the screen, where Hornet's quiver is slowly blossoming with the dark blue fletching of Hellcats. "Hello!? Hello!?"


    "You could prepare *some* SBDs," Goto says dourly. "You're going to be rotating CAP planes all day anyways, you don't need to do that." He's got his phone out and is picking through the settings menus blearily, muttering something about passwords.

    "Sorry," you say, throwing your hands in the air. "I'm just sticking with what we Yanks are *good at.*"

    A stifled giggle comes from behind you. You and Goto both turn to glare at Shoukaku and Kongou, who are standing close, but suspiciously looking at opposite corners of the room as if they just happened to drift that close by no will of their own.

    You and Goto both stare them down with that long, cold gaze.

    "Would you like to add something, Shoukaku?" Goto asks.

    "Hmm? Sorry, Admiral, I was watching the screen," Shoukaku says, giving Goto her warmest, most lovely smile. Her charm bounces off Goto's countenance like warm honeyed tea splashing against an iceberg.

    "Yeah," Goto says.

    "Uh huh," you add.

    "Sure."

    "We believe you."

    Kongou claps her hands together. "You need more tea, teitoku! You too, yankeetoku!"

    "*Yankeetoku!?*" you sputter.

    "Come, Shoukaku," Kongou says brightly, grabbing Shoukaku's wrist and skipping away, towing the hapless carrier behind her without visible effort. Kongou kicks the door open and nips out smartly.


    "Did anyone tell them there's a war on?" Goto gripes sourly as he watches them leave. "For Chr- hey!"

    You slide your thumb over the screen of Goto's phone, scrolling through his contacts list. "Man, a lot of girls in here. Do you sort them by class, or by name-"

    "The hell are you doing!?" Goto says, making a halfhearted swipe at his phone. You dance out of range easily, pivoting on your gimp leg to put your shoulder in his way.

    "Just looking for someone-"

    "Stop screwing around," Goto says, not really meaning it. You both know there's not a damn thing to be done for the next thirty minutes but let your minds chew over every awful possibility as your scouts motor for Chichi-Jima, and anything, *anything* is better than that. You find what you want, tap the screen and hit the lock key just before Goto manages to pin your arm with some kind of judo-hold and catch the phone as it slips from your suddenly-numb fingers. "Ha! Asshole." He leans against a table still cluttered with planning documents and enters the password to unlock his phone. "Okay, no- why is it dialing-"

    You both hear someone pick up on the other end. "Hello, teitoku~! I didn't know you got up this early."

    Goto blinks. His screen's already blanked, as most phones do during an active call. "Uh."

    "... Admiral? Hello? It's Kisaragi-chan!"


    Goto turns to give you a lidded-eyed look, then swings the phone up to his ear with exaggerated grace. "Good morning, Kisaragi-chan. What are you doing up this early?"

    "Exercising!" she says. "Fubuki got me into the habit. I don't want to fall behind just because she's on a sortie. Did you need something?" She sounds eager to be needed.

    "Yeah," Goto says levelly, still looking at you. "A bone saw and some salt."

    "... can you say that again, teitoku?"

    "Why are you speaking English?" Goto says suddenly, his eyebrow twitching.

    A dead, baffled silence on the other end of the line. "Uh... I..."

    "Nevermind. After your run, could you be a dear and run a few breakfast bagels or something to the administrative CIC? I don't think we're gonna be leaving this room for the whole day."

    "Sure thing!" she replies brightly, sounding excited. "I'll be right there!"

    "You don't h-" Goto begins, but she's already hung up. He throws a pen at you as you snigger, then goes back to hunting down the ringtone Kongou apparently programmed into his phone.

    "Can we talk to them?" you ask, looking at the map screen. "Or should we maintain radio silence?"

    "We're using directional microwave comms; it's being routed through MILSTARS," Goto tells you. "So we can talk to whoever, really."

    You turn your wrist over and check the time. 0515. You don't have much time for last-minute checkups, and they're not really needed... but they might put you at ease.

    >Call Willie – see how she's doing.
    >Call Harder – see how he's holding up.
    >Call someone else?


    >Call Willie – see how she's doing.

    You flip through settings on your little command remote (noting that some wiseass added a bit of masking tape and magic-markered in "SETTLE'S HOOK" on it) and select Willie's chat channel.

    "Hey, Willie?"

    "Wha—aa-a-a-a-a-a-aat!" she babbles, twitching violently. The feed from her gopro cam pans around, her shaking arm waving her turret around at random. "A-a-are there e-e-enemies!?"

    Your second-phase search launched at 0500 precisely; ten minutes after nautical twilight; the time of morning when the horizon is light enough to distinguish the silhouette of ships against it. The sun won't actually crest the horizon till 0534 or so. The go-pro's resolution is fine, even over a microwave datalink, but you still have to strain to make out the other carrier girls. Fubuki is in her plane-guard spot just ahead and to the side of Akagi; she waves at Willie encouragingly. If it wasn't for your knowledge of the formation, you'd never know who it was.

    "Easy, Willie," you tell her. "I just wanted to see how you're doing, is all."


    "I-I'm... here," she admits. "Uh... can anyone else hear us?"

    "Nope."

    "Uh... w-what if I h-hit one o-of our own planes?" she asks warily. "I m-mean I c-c-an't tell th-them apart and like, w-w-ith the bats it all happened so fast-"

    "Willie; any pilot sticking his nose into the AA envelope knows the risk he's taking," you tell her seriously. "You blaze away at anything heading towards Hornet that has wings, okay?"

    "O-okay." A silence. "Admiral?"

    "Yeah?"

    Her voice is low and shy. "T-thank you ff-or letting me AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" she shrieks, her camera feed tumbling water-for-sky-for water before she lands on her ass; floating in the water somehow. Towering over is some sort of humanoid figure; some strange things protruding from its head; the meager light glinting in wide, mad eyes.

    "YOUR LOOKOUTS SUCK!" a familiar voice comes booming through Willie's own mic. "YER BLINDER THAN THE BATS YOU SHOOT, YOU BINT!"

    You stare at the screen, mouth hanging open, until you finally take a deep breath. "Sammy."

    "WHO'S SAMMY?" Sammy bellows. "I'M FUCKBUCKY!"


    "No, you are not," you retort.

    "SURE I AM! BOY I SURE AM SAD I MISSED MY MORNING GOD-I-DISPLACE-TOO-MUCH JOG. OH BOY ALMOST SUNRISE, I'M GONNA GO SUCK UP TO AKAGI-SEMPAI DESU DESU POI CHANG CHONG-"

    "Sammy, casual racism isn't funny," you say in your dour Dad voice as Goto snickers next to you.

    "Dammit," Sammy says with a sigh. "I thought I had her pegged, too. Did I do the voice wrong? No, not – oh I didn't say kootchywoo at the start, did I? *Fuck.*"

    Goto seems to be trying to swallow his lower lip as he struggles to maintain the gravity he needs. "Yes?" he says into his landline phone, his voice dangerously close to cracking. "Yes," he tries again, sounding more together this time. "Yeah, can you get me the feed from the JAXA station on Iwo?" A pause. "No shit. Yeah, put me through to them." You hoist an eyebrow. Goto covers the reciever. "The JAXA station they use for downrange monitoring of rocket test launches. Damn powerful radar, great discrimination-"

    "Yeah, the radar that totally doesn't do terminal target discrimination for general tracks Cobra Dane picks up," you reply. You could kick yourself for forgetting about it – but then again, Ground Based Midcourse Defense hasn't been on anyone's mind after LA. "Think it can do better than two Burkes 90 nautical miles out, though?"

    Goto shrugs. "Only one way to find out." He presses the phone against his ear again. You turn your eyes back to the map on the wall – the second-phase planes are only minutes away from visuals on Chichi-Jima. Hornet calls in; one of her scout planes radioed in with reports of smoke rising from the island. You've got a Global Hawk climbing for the area from Guam, but until then all you have is satellite feeds trying to look through broken cloud cover. The thermal overlay is pretty stark, however – the fires burning on ChiChi-Jima are pretty obvious; especially the fuel tanks at the JSDF seaplane airstrip.


    Goto is still tapping his fingers on the desktop. The phone is still ringing. "Come on you fucking chairforce nerds," Goto growls. "Stop jerking off to Chinese cartoons and pick up the goddamn phone already."

    You glance back at the map – your first-phase search planes are almost 225 miles out now. One of Tone's scoutplanes – the infamous #4 himself, in fact – is flying the dead-end leg almost due south; the one least likely to find any hostiles, as its flying over previously scouted and friendly territory just west of Iwo Jima.

    Goto sighs – the phone is still ringing.

    >What did you expect? If satellites and radar worked right, you wouldn't need these girls half as much to begin with. This is a bad time to get nerves, Settle.
    >... the above is true, but it never hurts to double-check.
    >... something's wrong. Something's very wrong.


    >... something's wrong. Something's very wrong.

    A chill of dread thrills down your spine as you listen to that phone ring and ring and ring. A memory unbidden washes over you; dark thunderclouds rising out of a beautiful clear sky; blue electric radiance rising from the dark depths...

    ... death, where it has no right to be.

    You fumble with your remote desperately; selecting the output node as Anderson AFB; the shipgirl's deployed units have only their old-fashioned VHF radios, and your fleet is under radio silence. "Tone #4. Tone #4!? Do you copy?"

    A tinny, befuddled desu echoes in your earphones.

    "#4, dive for the damn waves, right now! You've got inbound!"

    Goto's eyes snap to the map on the wall – and then to you, when he doesn't find anything. "Settle, what are-"

    The other end of the line finally connects. "Yes, hello? This is...." you hear Goto's voice trail off. His face turns pale.

    "Admiral!" Chikuma's voice breaks in. "Report from scout #5; ten enemy surface units spotted at 225 miles range-"

    "Admiral Settle, my TBF spotted multiple enemy cruisers just off ChiChi-Jima with fighters flying top-cover-"

    "Admiral Goto," Tone's cultured voice comes in, "scout number four reports fighters patrolling above the cloud deck-"

    You stand stock still, numbed by the sudden flood of information pouring in on you as the tactical map lights up with red icons; far too many, and one of them far too close. Your heart seems to vanish from your chest, a cold, hollow void spreading through you as it hits you -

    - it's Midway in reverse. You came expecting enemy decks, and you got a lot more; located right on your flank.

    A trap.

    And that's when Goto begins to scream.

    41166840 (demetrious) -
    >>41166835 →
    NEW THREAD
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • Session #24 pt.2
  • Threadmarks


    • ​
    It's 0530, and you're seriously discomfited by what you're learning about the Abyssals' strength and dispositions.
    (Map by demetrious and Command: Modern Air and Naval Operations.)​

    "-two carriers and a heavy escort group around them, under a heavy cloud deck at medium altitude -"

    "-at least six cruisers and two destroyer divisions with flotilla leaders now passing Chichi-Jima-"

    "-number Four reporting heavy abyssal air traffic over Iwo Jima-"

    Goto on the floor, clutching at his ears, screaming as Kongou rushes across the room as discarded donuts go rolling forgotten across the carpet; phone swinging free on the end of its cord -

    - the sun is finally dawning on a new day, and it's already gone straight to hell.

    >Get Goto to pull his shit together. You need his expertise. Besides, not even sure his girls will take orders from you – especially Kaga.
    >Pick up the phone. There's nothing on the other end of that line you haven't faced before.
    >Reorganize the formation – sounds like you'll be in a surface battle within an hour or two, and you can't proceed without Goto.


    >Reorganize the formation – sounds like you'll be in a surface battle within an hour or two, and you can't proceed without Goto.
    >Pick up the phone. There's nothing on the other end of that line you haven't faced before.

    You try to work up spit in your dry mouth to no avail. Picking the force-wide channel, you swallow and speak into your mic. "Destroyers Yuudachi, Shigure, Yukikaze, Hayashimo: you are now Division One. Your senior-most destroyer is Division Leader. Destroyers William D. Porter, Fubuki, Shiranui and Sammy B, you are now Division Two. Shiranui is your division leader. Division Two, hold position as plane guards for now. Division Two, I want you screening fifteen thousand yards ahead of the force – keep your sonars on. Mustin, it's time to start your ASW patrols."

    "Aye, sir."

    With that taken care of, you eyeball the phone. Goto's curled up on the floor, weeping, clutching his head miserably. Kongou's picking him up and pulling his head against her chest, cradling him protectively, a look of sheer miserable terror on her face. Shoukaku is standing in the middle of the room, stunned. Kisaragi is right next to her; clutching her arm like a safety blanket, a take-out bag of food forgotten on the table beside her.

    And through it all is that black phone, swinging and swinging on the end of its cord; the dark holes in the receiver drinking in every bit of it.

    You don't remember stepping towards the table. You don't remember picking up the phone. You barely recall Shoukaku's sudden abortive shout of panic; her fruitless last-second lunge for your arm as you press the receiver against your ear.

    At first, there's static – and then a sharp crackling, like something hard snapping and splintering. An awful gurgle drifts over the open line; a meaty, organic sound that resonates with something living in your brain-stem; making the back of your neck itch with a gut instinct older than the pyramids. And then there's only the static; brief and fitful.


    Shoukaku seizes your arm with desperate strength, but you twist your whole body around, prying it out of her grip. Her dogged grip only throws her hip into the table, but you refuse to yield – she yelps as she loses hold and goes tumbling clear over the obstacle.

    You listen to the static. You don't strain to discern the snatches and murmurs of voices that dance at the edge of audibility. You just let it wash over you like the tide crashing against a sea cliff... and wait.

    S̢̝̤̮̰̲̣s̜͕̣̦̞ͅs̪̘͇͓͖͎ͅs͜s̷̭s͏̗̥͎͍͔e̮͇͉t̹̠̼ţt̜͓̺̗͘t̞̮͎͔l̬̟̰̫e̹̫

    Wait, as the cold bony fingers *claw* down your spine-

    S̻͍͍s̟̪͖͉̝̱̬ś̬s͚̰s͚s͓̼̜͘s̷͚͔̤̺̹̱ss̰̲̼̝͚̰s͓s̜̫̣̭͖ͅs̡͍͙̱̺̣͇sss̹̭̤͖͠e̪̟t̹̞̺̤̥̫̙t̖̭͇̪̜t̷͈̯̥̯̰̻̻t̺̭̻͔̣͉͇l҉͕̩͙̹̩e̥͉͔

    Wait as they *rake your flesh,* streaks of bone-chilling cold in their wake as the worms wriggle into your ears and brain and slither through your ear canal like goo heading for your brain-

    s͍h͞e͢e̳e̙͠e̗̲̖̣̥̺e͎̱̠͔͔͜e̥é͓̹̳̫̞̩̗ ͕͎s͇͞c͏̘̯͈re̻̟͚̮̲̳e̛e͟e͚̩͇̹e̟̥e̼̳̪̠̝e̼̩̲̖͙̰a̖̺̼m̵̰̪̪̹̬͕s͏ ̱̯̮ͅf̫̙̹͖̞͈͙̕o̳̙͖̞̗̠͜r̳͈͙͚̮̠ ͈͈y̺o͍u̖ ̧̥̯͙̺̭s̴̗͈̻̳̦o̴̤̗͍̖ ̧͓͚̱̦̥s̪̯̗͔w̥͟è͔̤̯̗̱e̼͔̩͕̳̦e̪̠̰e̠̜̰͡èę̮̭͚e҉t̶͍̬̫͍

    The fingers are an illness; blood-draining spikes stabbing into your spine and draining the fluid within; your legs are losing strength and the wound in your leg throbs and throbs with a dull heat, like the steel is still within it-

    t͓͔̬͎̯h̝e͕̖̬͓̼̗͓ ͏̟̱̳̗͉͉li͔̮̮̝̘̯͡i̱͎i͙͟i̘͖̪͎̖͚̼͡m̹̤͖b̨͔̞͔̞̩ͅs ̣̗̰̯̘f̥̻ͅͅi̠ì͙̟͇i̦̮̯r̟͙̟͞s̟̥̲̩̲͙t͕͔̻̰̝̭ ͙̠̙͖̜̣̺t̮̘̱̖͓h̤̻̹͔̳e͙̮͓͟ ̠̭͕l͍͎͇̝̦͕͈i̗͕͈̱̙̳ͅi͞i͚̦̫̪̬̠̰m̞͉̀b̹̟̳͔͉̥s̸̻ ̟͈͎̬̜̙͜b̯̤̣ụ͓̖̮͍ṭ͍ ̢͙t̞h̬̮̱͎̱͢e͓͖͙͎̣ͅ ͢e͞y̝̰͈͎̣e͏̻̻̘̱̖̳ͅṣ̭̜̪̫̗ ̮͍͍l̦͎͙͚̺̪̫a̳s͙̯̫t̷̞͍͇̲̣ ̙̹̕l̮̬̳̲͓̗͘i̧͙̗̦͉̺ͅk̸ͅé ҉̮͓̙̟̟͓t͍͙̫̮̤̠̻͟h̞͙̞̰͙͖͟ͅi̷̲̹̥̥͖̙s̵͚ ͔̲̗́fl͏e̲͇̳͈͓̥s̸͇͍͎h̡̤͚͍̪̰y̴͍ ̶̝̱̗o̴̭n̳͍e̦̬͔-̷̩̹͈͔̖

    Crackling, snapping, a final awful scream that bubbles through welling blood released from a slit throat-

    y̢o̯̳̗͖̱͢ù͙̘r̶͔̝̖ s̖̤̖͔͙̱̫h͠í̦̪͇̹p̵̙̱̩s̘͙̮͉͡ ̭̮͉̰̬̥͕y̧̲͕̗͈o̟͎̙͖̩̮̹ụ̜̳͖͠ŕ̗ ͇͚̜̺̩sͅl͕̩̬̮̘ut̷͇͖̟s̘͉ ͏̥͙̲̝̟y̼͔̯͙͚̥͡o̧̺̬̰̯̹̻̖u̪̝r̗͔̬̀ ͎͙͉̞̮̻͢s͚̝̬͔ḁ̴̪̻̜̝̟̭c̦̹̣̱͇̼r͏͚̖i̘̲̻͇f͎̻̕ͅi̴͍c̷e̸̫̘̺̪̬s͉̹̭͇̝̥,͓̣̬ ͇̙ỵ̬̠o̠̞u͖̭̦̘̠'̵̙̪͕̗̬̼ll̶͓ ̙̬ͅs̖̤̻̤e͙̺̫͕̭͢è̼͉̺ ̼͍̪͎̦i͈̥̺͔̞͜t̰̝̟̖ ̞̫̠a̛̺ḷ̡l͏̜̝ ̭̳̘͠b̬̞̠̼͢ḙ̴̮͕̞̠̟̲f̶̬̮̬o҉̣̝̭̩̼r̯̞̲̼͟ȩ̫̝̬̘̲͍̩ ͓w̢̦̭̙̱͙͈e ̱̳̠c̣̭̰̗͚o̝̝m̹e̴ ̩̝͚̬f̘͜ơ̟̭̳̲̠̹r͎̞͝ ̫͎̹̥̪̼͡y͏̥̱o̸u̱̦̝̮͘ a̞ṉ͈̹̗͘d̩̟͍ ̷͈͚͙̗̜͚y̜͇ͅo҉̥͍u̯̟͢ ̢̙̰̻a̹͎n͉͚̭͓d͍̟͢ ͏̟̜È̩̤̥͎̤V͎̼͉̰̞́ÉR͡Y̳̰̯̯O̞͠NE̠͘ ̠̫̝͇E̵͓̜̙̘L̫͇̖͈̪̦ͅS͏̻̼̼͍̮̪̝E̮-̩͇

    [ ] I'm coming for *you,* first.
    [ ] You really have no clue what you're fucking with, do you?
    [ ] Other?

    POPULAR WRITE-INS:
    41168026 -
    >We made you, bitch. We tore you asunder once. We can do it again.

    41168057 -
    "We're fucking coming for you, you bitch. We're going to break you into thousands of tiny pieces, and where your names were once listed with honor, we're going to name you traitors for all human history, for the rest of time. Traitors to your nation, to your Navy, and most of all, traitors to the sailors that crewed you with love and pride, you goddamned soulless creature."

    41168107 -
    >Hello, this is Taco Bell, may I take your order?

    41168202 -
    "Mustin, target the JAXA Radar installation."

    41168232 -
    Laugh. Just laugh. After all your own girls have put you through, these abyssals think some spooky sounds are going to do you in? You've seen things that should have broken you. You've stood at the helm of your own ship as she came apart at the seams, fighting to the last. You've seen a valiant ship chase after her admiral like a horny schoolgirl. You're dating a carrier. and you don't mind. YOU'VE PULLED A LIVE SHELL OUT OF YOUR BATTLESHIP. BY. HAND.
    They think they can break you? With static and crunches and other horror movie shit?
    Bitch please.

    41168287 -
    >[ ] Laugh at the bitch. Give her your best 'you dun fucked up now' laugh
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...


    WRITE-IN: Laugh at the bitch. Give her your best 'you dun fucked up now' laugh
    [X] You really have no clue what you're fucking with, do you?
    WRITE-IN: "Mustin, target the JAXA Radar installation."

    You let the threat against your girls sink through your mind; let the fact that they *can* threaten sink in; wonder how you know what they say was it words did you even HEAR English words? and after you've turned and twisted and looked at it from every angle, there's really only response.

    You begin to laugh.


    It starts easily enough; a low, bitter chuckle, but it feels *right,* like rolling round rocks downhill, somehow, and it picks up a velocity all its own, a cascade of cold, mocking laughter that flows out of you and oozes into the phone. You laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and when it ceases it grinds to a natural , slow halt, finishing its run with a nice long "aaaaaaah."

    You shake your head slightly, and marvel that it feels so damn *heavy.*

    "How can you not understand?" you ask wearily. "How can you, of all *things,* not understand what they *are* to us?"

    The other end of the line is literally as silent as the grave.

    "Symbols of our nations. Shields for our civilians. Graves for our heroes."

    Silence.

    "We have them back," you whisper. "By the grace of God, we have them back among us once more. And we'll be damned if we let them go again. You have *no* idea what you're fucking with."

    You fling the receiver at the cradle so hard that the phone nearly tips off the table. You look back up at the map screen.

    "Mustin."

    "Sir?"

    "Spin up a Tomahawk and mail it to the JAXA station on Iwo Jima. By the way, the island is now hostile."

    "A-ye aye, sir," the skipper replies, surprised, and less than a minute later you watch a missile rising on a plume from Mustin's forward VLS from several go-pro feeds.


    "Kongou?" you ask. She just looks up at you, her face streaked with tears, fear in her eyes as she hugs her Admiral close to her.

    "Settle?" she asks. "Is he going to be all right? He's going to be all right, won't he?"

    "He'll live," you tell her. "But... don't let him go."

    Kongou shakes her head so hard her hair whips around, denying even the possibility of it. You look back at the map on-screen – a hostile carrier battle group to the south-west, a hostile airbase – hell, THREE hostile airbases, counting the two abandoned ones from the War, to the south, and a powerful surface task-force very close at hand and dashing for your throat at flank speed.

    And with Goto down, all the hard choices are up to you.

    [X] Launch Kaga and Akagi's first deckload strike against the carriers and begin spotting for the second strike immediately. (Automatic.)
    [X] Get every human-piloted aircraft you possibly can wheels-up now – you're going to need all the CAP you can manage. (Automatic.)

    DIVE BOMBER VOTE:
    [ ] Spot and launch Hornet's dive bomber squadrons against Iwo Jima – you need that nest exterminated NOW.
    [ ] Spot and launch Hornet's dive bombers with Akagi and Kaga's second strike – you need a damn knockout blow.
    [ ] Launch Hornet's dive bombers – against the enemy surface force closing in. Bloody their nose good enough, and an hour of gunnery from your battlewagons can settle accounts.
    [ ] Launch Hornet's dive bombers – as extra CAP. They're remarkably nimble when unburdened, there's thirty-six of them, and a few might rub some Swede on it. And with Iwo Jimas *three airfields* in the mix you are guaranteed a violent, awful plastering sooner or later.

    MISSILE VOTE:
    [ ] That island? Fuck it, and fuck everything ON it. Including the runways. Especially the runways.
    [ ] That surface group? Fuck it, and fuck everything IN it. Including the cruisers. Especially the cruisers.
    [ ] That carrier group? Fuck it, and fuck everything IN it. Including the AA escorts. Especially the AA escorts.

    THINK ABOUT THIS VOTE CAREFULLY. DISCUSSION ENCOURAGED.

    41170071 (demetrious) -
    >>41170039
    >Do our two SSN have any ship launched ASMs?
    They do indeed. Nine apiece - might be a good thing to hold back against unexpected developments!
    GONNA GIVE IT A FEW MORE MINUTES FOR VOTES, THEN CALL SESSION FOR THE NIGHT! NEXT THREAD WILL BE A PERSPECTIVE CHANGE - RUN SHALLOW, SHOOT FAST!

    41170170 (demetrious) -
    >>41170143
    >Any of the gang tonight?
    No writeups tonight, sorry!
    I've got a missed thread to try and make up for, so I'm going to try and start earlier on Wednesday to cram in a few more updates. We're finally past the game-defining opening-game moves; so it's just going to be a few hours of mostly nothing but furious writing of combat scenes.

    41170202 (demetrious) -
    >>41170176
    >Will you tell us what 'votes' have won? And who is the perspective change to?
    nope

    41170259 (demetrious) -
    CALLING THE SESSION FOR THE NIGHT! I'm going to freaking bed for a change. See you guys Wednesday!
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Well, the plot is definately starting to pick up. The Abyssals have a thing for Settle.
     
    Doesn't everyone have a thing for settle? But yeah, things are getting interesting and I really can't wait for more.
     
    Got some bad news questers, looks like the wizard won't be updating for a while given that his grandmother's in the hospital in a bad way :(
     
    I've been pondering what happened in the latest update, and have a couple of theories that will be interesting to see if they are right or not.

    So, what we know is that the abyssals know Settle in some way, and that he can actually understand them, and didn't end up screaming like Goto.
    My current theory is that its related to the shrapnel he got in the LA battle, as way it was described did remind me of a BB himes horns, and having some bits of abyssal stuff rattling around in your skull sounds like it might be enough to have some manner of a link between hi and the abyss.

    Just gotta wait and see, but whatever way it goes, will be interesting to find out.
     
    Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Remove ads
    Back
    Top