Northern Light (Worm/Misc Shipgirl)

[Taliserian]

A/N: Decided to throw up something after enjoying a lot of other peoples' works on here. Only seems fair to give back to the community that's given me so many hours of enjoyment and frantically mashing the refresh button hoping for an update. And while I'm no wordsmith, sometimes I just get scenes in my head that demand to get written down. Dratted plotbunnies.

So, this is my take on bringing a Shipgirl into the Worm universe, using a canon character's power as an inspiration for a shard that generates MSSGBS. Don't expect other ships to be showing up, no fairies, no Abyssals. Just spacewhale BS. Do expect enough butterflies to make even Glenn go "Ok, that's enough Weaver."

And as a geography note: In my head, Brockton Bay has always basically been Vancouver, flipped east-west.

But enough rambling; let's run this up the flagpole and see who salutes.

---

Dracotech Industries private VTOL cargo craft
Somewhere over the Eastern Seaboard
6 August, 2010. 0743 Lima (1243 Zulu)

The girl riding in the back of the transport fidgeted as the transcontinental flight neared its end. Short and slender, her youthful features and sporty, pure-white hair were at odds with the navy pattern camouflage fatigues she was wearing. With a weary sigh she looked at the navigational display on the front bulkhead of cargo craft and sat up. "I still say I could have made it on my own."

The display switched from a map of their flightplan to a larger scale map showing most of North America; a dotted line tracing a route from Vancouver, south through Panama, then up to the eastern seaboard. "Setting side the issues with fuel or the Canal; it would have taken you way longer to reach Brockton Bay than flying. You just wanted an excuse to go to the Caribbean." A woman's' voice on the intercom speakers was slightly teasing.

"Well, of course, Dragon. There's some really nice museums on the gulf coast. It would have been educational."

"Remember what I briefed you on about the E-NE leadership."

The girl sat up a little straighter. "Piggot, PRT Director. Military background, combat veteran; classified prior actions have left her with a low opinion of parahumans in general. Armsmaster, Protectorate team leader. Former Ward, Tinker specializing in miniaturization and efficiency. Undiagnosed autism-spectrum disorder. Miss Militia, Protectorate XO and Wards commander. Another former Ward, versatile small arms Blaster."

"Go on..."

"All three will react positively to a polite and professional approach; so catching a direct flight, particularly riding in one of your red-eye cargo flights, shows I'm willing to sacrifice comforts and get to work. Which is good. Military courtesy I can do. PR... not so much."

"I think the costume Mr. Chambers came up for you is adorable."

"Dragon, please. I'm a warship, not ... I don't do cute. I definitely don't do 'Sailor Moon'."

"I'm just glad he nixed your first choice of codename."

"Destroyer is both descriptive and it isn't taken."

"Dani, I get that you're proud of your abilities; but reminding the people you're supposed to be helping that you can level a city block in less time than it takes to sneeze is probably not the best for making them feel comfortable around you."

"And Dragon does?"

"We're on final, secure your gear and prepare for landing."

"Oh, well isn't that convenient timing." Dani smirked a little and zipped up her field jacket.

^v^v^v^v^

Protectorate ENE Headquarters: "The Rig"
6Aug10, 0800 Lima

There were five people sitting around the far end of the table in the conference room the PRT trooper escorted her into. At the head of the table sat an overweight woman in a suit; another suited man to her right, and a costumed teenager beside him. On her left, a man in power armor and a woman wearing fatigues with a flag scarf pulled up to cover the bottom half of her face; who'd been a personal hero of mine even before I triggered. I stood at the foot of the table, coming to attention and trying not to fangirl. "Ma'am, reporting for duty."

"Have a seat, Miss DeWolf." The PRT E-NE's director gestured to a seat, and I took it as the woman flipped open the file folder on the table in front of her. "Danielle DeWolf, 15, from Comox, Canada. Triggered and joined the Vancouver Wards March 3rd. Good grades in junior high; barring obvious disruption from becoming Parahuman. Emancipated minor." The Director looked up, obviously inviting a response.

"My parents are... very traditional people, ma'am. Both my trigger event and the effects of my powers... disgusted them. Frankly, I'm glad to be free of them; also why I changed my name."

"I see. Positive comments from Vancouver law enforcement, Coast Guard, and 442 Squadron, RCAF. Endorsement from Dragon on the transfer application."

"Actually, ma'am; transfering was her idea, originally. I felt I was being underutilized in Vancouver; and I'm too young to join the Guild. Sorry, but... Brockton Bay has a reputation for both the quantity and quality of its villains; between the Empire and, well... Lung."

"What do you think you can do about Lung?" The Assistant Director's question had all three of the heros at the table also looking at me curiously.

"Assistant Director Renick, with respect, did you actually read my full power testing profile, or just skim the top?"

"Breaker/Changer with a bunch of subratings..."

"So you skimmed. With respect, sir; permit me to educate." I reached under my jacket and pulled out what looked like a tank shell and should not possibly have fit under the coat. Setting the violet-tipped round on the table heavily, I smiled a little bit at the two intrigued senior heroes. "My power is similar in concept to Chevaliers; but where he can stack properties of various objects to create composites, I'm basically a superimposition of a person onto a specific object and can vary my traits between the two. The object in my case being a world war two vintage Tribal-class Destroyer. This..." I patted the huge shell from my ready locker, "is a one twenty millimeter variable-time fused containment foam round created by Dracotech Industries. My main battery can put seventy two rounds per minute out to a range of fifteen kilometers."

Aegis, the Wards leader, gaped as I picked the round back up and put it back into my magazine. "You have a tank cannon?"

"I have six naval rifles. Eight if you count my one oh twos; though technically they're classed as secondaries." I shrugged. "And a bunch of smaller stuff."

The Director glared down the length of the table. "Miss DeWolf, I would hardly call a dozen mixed autocannons 'small stuff'. I have read your full file. Armsmaster, Miss Militia; your input?"

"I've got some personal experience with having more firepower at hand than a lot of people are comfortable with." Miss Militia spoke first. "I can understand why Dragon would recommend a transfer." She looked down the table and her eyes crinkled slightly, perhaps smiling under her scarf. "I'd like to see what you can do on the range before I'd endorse any weapons fire; even your 'little stuff', however."

"I trust Dragons' endorsement, Director." Armsmaster nodded towards his second in command. "Assuming she can meet Miss Militia's standards for range safety and marksmanship; as well as proficiency testing in Wards protocols, I can see where she'd be an asset. It's an efficient use of personnel."

The director pursed her lips and looked at me for a long moment. "You're confined to the Rig until we can find enough magazine space for your your ammo. You have until the start of the school year to qualify both on the range and in Wards procedures. If your performance, both as a Ward and academically, isn't up to snuff by the christmas holidays; I'm sending you back to Vancouver."

"Confined to base until ammo offload, aye. One month to meet range and ops quals, aye. Provisional until midterms, aye." Dragon had commented that the more nervous I was, the more I tended to talk like a sailor; but in this case it seemed to be the right response.

"One slight hiccup, Director." The large woman rounded on her assistant. "It's too late in the year to get a slot in Arcadia. If we bump someone to make room, it'll make her identity pretty obvious. Winslow, on the other hand..." He trailed off as Aegis made a face. "Well, there's no waiting list to get into Winslow."

^v^v^v^v^​

0830 Lima

Aegis was tasked to lead me to the Wards area. "Do you have a mask? There might be a tour group."

"Yeah, one second." I reached into an outer pocket and pulled out a Canadian flag bandana; centering the maple leaf over my nose and mouth and tying it on with practiced ease. Raising an eyebrow at Aegis' barely suppressed grin. "What, everyone has their role models." A velcro name plate went into the blank spot on my jacket, red lettering of my cape name on a white background contrasting sharply with the royal blue of my field jacket. I held up a finger to the Wards team leader. "One moment, please Aegis. Until I meet Miss Milita's range quals, I'd rather not bring up my guns with the rest of the team. People get all awkward when they learn you're the second most dangerous hero in the city. I'm brute/mover until I get cleared for fire. By then I'm hoping the other Wards will see me as a friend, or at least teammate, rather than 'The walking artillery battery'."

Aegis chuckled as he hit a button outside the door to the Wards area. "Second most? I'm pretty sure Miss Militia can't do tank cannons."

"True, but on the other hand, I can't do nukes."

Aegis seemed to bluescreen for a moment, then shook his head. "Anyways, during the summer we normally run an eight hour shift. Four hours is about all anyone wants to sit at the Console anyways; so we rotate through. We'll start you as secondary Console to get a feel for the way things go around here; since you're stuck on the Rig anyways."

"Makes sense, gives me time to study." The door opened and Aegis lead the way into the common room. "Clockblocker, Shadowstalker, this is Haida; a potential transfer."

"Hiya." I waved at the black-cloaked young lady sitting at the Console as a young man in a white came around the couch and offered his hand. "Pleased to mee" Midway through shaking it, he and Aegis teleported onto the couch and Shadowstalker blinked across the room to the fridge. "tchya. What?"

Aegis and Clockblocker both looked at the wall clock. "That was nearly a record."

"Yup."

"Did you just...?"

"She seems to be having a little trouble rebooting there."

I shook my head. "Ok, assault with a parahuman power as a practical joke. Very funny. Aegis, please note that I will be getting even at some point in the future."

The black-cloaked young woman removed a coke from the fridge. "So, what kind of codename is Haida? Something Japanese?"

"First Nations, actually. PR and I compromised on it after they vetoed my first choice." I reached inside my jacket and got a can of pepsi from the fridge in my galley. "Hey Clock; mind showing me down to the dock level? I need to get some fresh air and stretch my legs after that flight."

Aegis nodded. "I'm texting the rest of the team, we'll have a meeting at noon to formally introduce the new arrival. I think we can get Kid Win out of his shop by then. Don't go too far from the Rig; I'm sure PR will want to save your debut for something flashy."

"RTB NLT twelve hundred lima for in-brief, aye. Remain close to base, aye." Despite their full face masks, I could tell Clockblocker and Aegis were both giving me looks as strange as Shadowstalkers', but Aegis shrugged it off. "Have fun. Try to send Clock back in one piece."

As we took an elevator down to water level, Clocks faceless mask tilted to one side curiously, then pointed at the can of cola I was drinking. "Hammerspace pockets?"

"Something like that. My power's a little weird." I shrugged, eyed the empty can for a moment, then crushed it into a tiny ball. "But the brute/mover part is pretty straightforward. Since we're in private; I'd like to say something. I don't appreciate what you did back in the common room there. Judging by Aegis' and Shadowstalkers' reactions, it's something you do often, and I suppose it could be considered funny. I only had to see your name on the public roster to guess that you think of yourself as the 'class clown' of the team. New transfer, time to do a little hazing, right?"

"Yeah?" I don't know if it was something in my tone; but I think Clockblocker was starting to realize he was sharing an elevator with an... upset person. Have to rein that in.

"Clock, it's... the first impression you just gave a potential teammate is that I can't trust you." I held up a finger to forestall a reply. "I get it, you were trying to be funny. And I'm not in the best mood right now; being stuck indoors makes me cranky, and I just had a four hour flight in a tiny little can; so I'm overreacting." The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. "Something to think about."

The converted oil rig that served as the headquarters of Brockton Bay's Protectorate detachment had a small floating wharf reached by one of the support legs. There was a thirty foot launch already tied up on one side, with a couple of PRT personnel. Clockblocker gave them a friendly wave, obviously recognizing some of them. "Hey guys, this is Haida; just got in from Vancouver and wanted to stretch...her...legs?" He trailed off in confusion as I stepped off the dock and onto the water. Six hours stuffed into tiny little human-scale spaces, four of that thousands of feet up in the air. Finally getting water beneath my keel, smelling salt on the breeze. Warmth filled me as my three boilers built steam.

"Umm, miss?" The fact that I didn't promptly sink into the water seemed to surprise the PRT staff.

"Bullshit." Ahh, Clockblocker rebooted. "You can walk on water?"

I reached over and patted the cheek of the older boys' mask. "I can do so much more than merely walk. Console, Haida." The last bit I sent via radio as well as speaking aloud.

"Go ahead, Haida." I could hear the boredom in Shadow Stalker's voice as I pushed off and glided back from the dock, doing a couple spins for the sheer joy of it. "Permission to do a speedrun out to the old hulk in the shipping channel?"

There was a delay before the response came back, probably getting permission. "Go for it."

I'd been a figure skater before I triggered, spent a lot of time rollerblading in the summer. My Admiralty 3-drum boilers were up to pressure. Backing away from the base of the Rig I started feeding steam into my twin Parsons geared turbines. I did a slow lap of the four legs of the Rig, lazy crossovers as I made sure everything below decks was working as expected. Passing the small craft dock and the watching Clockblocker, I gave a jaunty wave and went to flank speed.

Forty four thousand shaft horsepower delivered to my twin screws. The Bay was a mill-pond compared to the North Atlantic, my clipper bow slicing through the little ripples that passed for waves with ease. I moved like an Olympic speed-skater. Push, glide. Push, glide. I was moving fast enough to get a speeding ticket if I'd been on a road, and still accelerating. Thirty knots and time to lean hard in; heeling with the turn around the grounded tanker. Like a speed skater I put one hand down, fingertip kicking up spray from the concrete-hard water. I didn't shed speed in the turn like I would have back when I wore a steel hull; nor did I worry about grounding on the same rock that held the wreck. Push, push, push. Screws churning the water, a froth of blade-tip cavitation bubbles in my wake as I passed thirty six knots.

I broke into an evasive weave; like Sammy B or Johnston chasing splashes off Samar. Better. My power made me the best possible combination of my two selves. Warship speed, human agility. Ships live to move; Destroyers live to move fast. It was a clear, sunny summer day with only a light breeze. I dug around in an external pocket until I had the ruggedized mp3 player Dragon had given me, and put a headphone in, hitting play on a random track. "Console, Clockblocker; Haida. I'm probably going to be at this until lunch unless someone needs me. I'll be monitoring comms." I dropped to cruise speed and started to dance across the water.

Brockton Bay didn't seem that bad.

 

[SneakyDevil]

I'm no wordsmith myself m8, but please for the love of Anderson, put some spacing in.

 

[Rukia]

A/N: Decided to throw up something after enjoying a lot of other peoples' works on here. Only seems fair to give back to the community that's given me so many hours of enjoyment and frantically mashing the refresh button hoping for an update. And while I'm no wordsmith, sometimes I just get scenes in my head that demand to get written down. Dratted plotbunnies.
So, this is my take on bringing a Shipgirl into the Worm universe, using a canon character's power as an inspiration for a shard that generates MSSGBS. Don't expect other ships to be showing up, no Abyssals. Just spacewhale BS. Do expect enough butterflies to make even Glenn go "Ok, that's enough Weaver."
And as a geography note: In my head, Brockton Bay has always basically been Vancouver, flipped east-west.
But enough rambling; let's run this up the flagpole and see who salutes.

---

Dracotech Industries private VTOL cargo craft
Somewhere over the Eastern Seaboard
6 August, 2010. 0743 Lima (1243 Zulu)

The girl riding in the back of the transport fidgeted as the transcontinental flight neared its end. Short and slender, her youthful features and sporty, pure-white hair were at odds with the navy pattern camouflage fatigues she was wearing. With a weary sigh she looked at the navigational display on the front bulkhead of cargo craft and sat up. "I still say I could have made it on my own."
The display switched from a map of their flightplan to a larger scale map showing most of North America; a dotted line tracing a route from Vancouver, south through Panama, then up to the eastern seaboard. "Setting side the issues with fuel or the Canal; it would have taken you way longer to reach Brockton Bay than flying. You just wanted an excuse to go to the Caribbean." A woman's' voice on the intercom speakers was slightly teasing.
"Well, of course, Dragon. There's some really nice museums on the gulf coast. It would have been educational."
"Remember what I briefed you on about the E-NE leadership."
The girl sat up a little straighter. "Piggot, PRT Director. Military background, combat veteran; classified prior actions have left her with a low opinion of parahumans in general. Armsmaster, Protectorate team leader. Former Ward, Tinker specializing in miniaturization and efficiency. Undiagnosed autism-spectrum disorder. Miss Militia, Protectorate XO and Wards commander. Another former Ward, versatile small arms Blaster."
"Go on..."
"All three will react positively to a polite and professional approach; so catching a direct flight, particularly riding in one of your red-eye cargo flights, shows I'm willing to sacrifice comforts and get to work. Which is good. Military courtesy I can do. PR... not so much."
"I think the costume Mr. Chambers came up for you is adorable."
"Dragon, please. I'm a warship, not ... I don't do cute. I definitely don't do 'Sailor Moon'."
"I'm just glad he nixed your first choice of codename."
"Destroyer is both descriptive and it isn't taken."
"Dani, I get that you're proud of your abilities; but reminding the people you're supposed to be helping that you can level a city block... probably not the best for making them feel comfortable around you."
"And Dragon does?"
"We're on final, secure your gear and prepare for landing."
"Oh, well isn't that convenient timing." Dani smirked a little and zipped up her field jacket.

^v^v^v^v^​

Protectorate ENE Headquarters: "The Rig"
6Aug10, 0800 Lima

There were five people sitting around the far end of the table in the conference room the PRT trooper escorted her into. At the head of the table sat an overweight woman in a suit; another suited man to her right, and a costumed teenager beside him. On her left, a man in power armor and a woman wearing fatigues with a flag scarf pulled up to cover the bottom half of her face; who'd been a personal hero of mine even before I triggered. I stood at the foot of the table, coming to attention and trying not to fangirl. "Ma'am, reporting for duty."
"Have a seat, Miss DeWolfe." The PRT E-NE's director gestured to a seat, and I took it as the woman flipped open the file folder on the table in front of her. "Danielle DeWolfe, 15, from Comox, Canada. Triggered and joined the Vancouver Wards March 3rd. Good grades in junior high; barring obvious disruption from becoming Parahuman. Emancipated minor." The Director looked up, obviously inviting a response.
"My parents are... very traditional people, ma'am. Both my trigger event and the effects of my powers... disgusted them. Frankly, I'm glad to be free of them; also why I changed my name."
"I see. Positive comments from Vancouver law enforcement, Coast Guard, and 442 Squadron, RCAF. Endorsement from Dragon on the transfer application."
"Actually, ma'am; transfering was her idea, originally. I felt I was being underutilized in Vancouver; and I'm too young to join the Guild. Sorry, but... Brockton Bay has a reputation for both the quantity and quality of its villains; between the Empire and, well... Lung."
"What do you think you can do about Lung?" The Assistant Director's question had all three of the heros at the table also looking at me curiously.
"Assistant Director, with respect, did you actually read my full power testing profile, or just skim the top?"
"Breaker/Changer with a bunch of subratings..."
"So you skimmed. With respect, sir; permit me to educate." I reached under my jacket and pulled out what looked like a tank shell and should not possibly have fit under the coat. Setting the violet-tipped round on the table heavily, I smiled a little bit at the two intrigued senior heroes. "My power is similar in concept to Chevaliers; but where he can stack properties of various objects to create composites, I'm basically a superimposition of a person onto a specific object and can vary my traits between the two. The object in my case being a world war two vintage Tribal-class Destroyer. This..." I patted the huge shell from my ready locker, "is a one twenty millimeter variable-time fused containment foam round created by Dracotech Industries. My main battery can put seventy two rounds per minute out to a range of fifteen kilometers."
Aegis, the Wards leader, gaped as I picked the round back up and put it back into my magazine. "You have a tank cannon?"
"I have six naval rifles. Eight if you count my one oh twos; though technically they're classed as secondaries." I shrugged. "And a bunch of smaller stuff."
The Director glared down the length of the table. "Miss DeWolfe, I would hardly call nearly a dozen mixed autocannons 'small stuff'. I have read your full file. Armsmaster, Miss Militia; your input?"
"I've got some personal experience with having more firepower at hand than a lot of people are comfortable with." Miss Militia spoke first. "I can understand why Dragon would recommend a transfer." She looked down the table and her eyes crinkled slightly, perhaps smiling under her scarf. "I'd like to see what you can do on the range before I'd endorse any weapons fire; even your 'little stuff', however."
"I trust Dragons' endorsement, Director." Armsmaster nodded towards his second in command. "Assuming she can meet Miss Militia's standards for range safety and marksmanship; as well as proficiency testing in Wards protocols, I can see where she'd be an asset. It's an efficient use of personnel."
The director pursed her lips and looked at me for a long moment. "You're confined to the Rig until we can find enough magazine space for your your ammo. You have until the start of the school year to qualify both on the range and in Wards procedures. If your performance, both as a Ward and academically, isn't up to snuff by the christmas holidays; I'm sending you back to Vancouver."
"Confined to base until ammo offload, aye. One month to meet range and ops quals, aye. Provisional until midterms, aye." Dragon had commented that the more nervous I was, the more I tended to talk like a sailor; but in this case it seemed to be the right response.
"One slight hiccup, Director." The large woman rounded on her assistant. "It's too late in the year to get a slot in Arcadia. If we bump someone to make room, it'll make her identity pretty obvious. Winslow, on the other hand..." He trailed off as Aegis made a face. "Well, there's no waiting list to get into Winslow."

^v^v^v^v^​

0830 Lima

Aegis was tasked to lead me to the Wards area. "Do you have a mask? There might be a tour group."
"Yeah, one second." I reached into an outer pocket and pulled out a Canadian flag bandana; centering the maple leaf over my nose and mouth and tying it on with practiced ease. Raising an eyebrow at Aegis' barely suppressed grin. "What, everyone has their role models." A velcro name plate went into the blank spot on my jacket, red lettering of my cape name on a white background contrasting sharply with the royal blue of my field jacket. I held up a finger to the Wards team leader. "One moment, please Aegis. Until I meet Miss Milita's range quals, I'd rather not bring up my guns with the rest of the team. People get all awkward when they learn you're the second most dangerous hero in the city. I'm brute/mover until I get cleared for fire. By then I'm hoping the other Wards will see me as a friend, or at least teammate, rather than 'The walking artillery battery'."
Aegis chuckled as he hit a button outside the door to the Wards area. "Second most? I'm pretty sure Miss Militia can't do tank cannons."
"True, but on the other hand, I can't do nukes."
Aegis seemed to bluescreen for a moment, then shook his head. "Anyways, during the summer we normally run an eight hour shift. Four hours is about all anyone wants to sit at the Console anyways; so we rotate through. We'll start you as secondary Console to get a feel for the way things go around here; since you're stuck on the Rig anyways."
"Makes sense, gives me time to study." The door opened and Aegis lead the way into the common room. "Clockblocker, Shadowstalker, this is Haida; a potential transfer."
"Hiya." I waved at the black-cloaked young lady sitting at the Console as a young man in a white came around the couch and offered his hand. "Pleased to mee" Midway through shaking it, he and Aegis teleported onto the couch and Shadowstalker blinked across the room to the fridge. "tchya. What?"
Aegis and Clockblocker both looked at the wall clock. "That was nearly a record."
"Yup."
"Did you just...?"
"She seems to be having a little trouble rebooting there."
I shook my head. "Ok, assault with a parahuman power as a practical joke. Very funny. Aegis, please note that I will be getting even at some point in the future."
The black-cloaked young woman removed a coke from the fridge. "So, what kind of codename is Haida? Something Japanese?"
"First Nations, actually. PR and I compromised on it after they vetoed my first choice." I reached inside my jacket and got a can of pepsi from the fridge in my galley. "Hey Clock; mind showing me down to the dock level? I need to get some fresh air and stretch my legs after that flight."
Aegis nodded. "I'm texting the rest of the team, we'll have a meeting at noon to formally introduce the new arrival. I think we can get Kid Win out of his shop by then. Don't go too far from the Rig; I'm sure PR will want to save your debut for something flashy."
"RTB NLT twelve hundred lima for in-brief, aye. Remain close to base, aye." Despite their full face masks, I could tell Clockblocker and Aegis were both giving me looks as strange as Shadowstalkers', but Aegis shrugged it off. "Have fun. Try to send Clock back in one piece."
As we took an elevator down to water level, Clocks faceless mask tilted to one side curiously, then pointed at the can of cola I was drinking. "Hammerspace pockets?"
"Something like that. My power's a little weird." I shrugged, eyed the empty can for a moment, then crushed it into a tiny ball. "But the brute/mover part is pretty straightforward. Since we're in private; I'd like to say something. I don't appreciate what you did back in the common room there. Judging by Aegis' and Shadowstalkers' reactions, it's something you do often, and I suppose it could be considered funny. I only had to see your name on the public roster to guess that you think of yourself as the 'class clown' of the team. New transfer, time to do a little hazing, right?"
"Yeah?" I don't know if it was something in my tone; but I think Clockblocker was starting to realize he was sharing an elevator with an... upset person. Have to rein that in.
"Clock, it's... the first impression you just gave a potential teammate is that I can't trust you." I held up a finger to forestall a reply. "I get it, you were trying to be funny. And I'm not in the best mood right now; being stuck indoors makes me cranky, and I just had a four hour flight in a tiny little can; so I'm overreacting." The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. "Something to think about."

The converted oil rig that served as the headquarters of Brockton Bay's Protectorate detachment had a small floating wharf reached by one of the support legs. There was a thirty foot launch already tied up on one side, with a couple of PRT personnel. Clockblocker gave them a friendly wave, obviously recognizing some of them. "Hey guys, this is Haida; just got in from Vancouver and wanted to stretch...her...legs?" He trailed off in confusion as I stepped off the dock and onto the water. Six hours stuffed into tiny little human-scale spaces, four of that thousands of feet up in the air. Finally getting water beneath my keel, smelling salt on the breeze. Warmth filled me as my three boilers built steam.
"Umm, miss?" The fact that I didn't promptly sink into the water seemed to surprise the PRT staff.
"Bullshit." Ahh, Clockblocker rebooted. "You can walk on water?"
I reached over and patted the cheek of the older boys' mask. "I can do so much more than merely walk. Console, Haida." The last bit I sent via radio as well as speaking aloud.
"Go ahead, Haida." I could hear the boredom in Shadow Stalker's voice as I pushed off and glided back from the dock, doing a couple spins for the sheer joy of it. "Permission to do a speedrun out to the old hulk in the shipping channel?"
There was a delay before the response came back, probably getting permission. "Go for it."
I'd been a figure skater before I triggered, spent a lot of time rollerblading in the summer. My Admiralty 3-drum boilers were up to pressure. Backing away from the base of the Rig I started feeding steam into my twin Parsons geared turbines. I did a slow lap of the four legs of the Rig, lazy crossovers as I made sure everything below decks was working as expected. Passing the small craft dock and the watching Clockblocker, I gave a jaunty wave and went to flank speed.
Forty four thousand shaft horsepower delivered to my twin screws. The Bay was a mill-pond compared to the North Atlantic, my clipper bow slicing through the little ripples that passed for waves with ease. I moved like an olympic speed-skater. Push, glide. Push, glide. I was moving fast enough to get a speeding ticket if I'd been on a road, and still accelerating. Thirty knots and time to lean hard in; heeling with the turn around the grounded tanker. Like a speed skater I put one hand down, fingertip kicking up spray from the concrete-hard water. I didn't shed speed in the turn like I would have back when I wore a steel hull; nor did I worry about grounding on the same rock that held the wreck. Push, push, push. Screws churning the water, a froth of blade-tip cavitation bubbles in my wake as I passed thirty six knots. I broke into an evasive weave; like Sammy B or Johnston chasing splashes off Samar. Better. My power made me the best possible combination of my two selves. Warship speed, human agility. Ships live to move; Destroyers live to move fast. It was a clear, sunny summer day with only a light breeze. I dug around in an external pocket until I had the ruggedized mp3 player Dragon had given me, and put a headphone in, hitting play on a random track. "Console, Clockblocker; Haida. I'm probably going to be at this until lunch unless someone needs me. I'll be monitoring comms." I dropped to cruise speed and started to dance across the water.
Brockton Bay didn't seem that bad.

Click to shrink...

For the love of everything holy please include proper spacing and formatting.

Guideline: One empty space in-between paragraphs and said paragraphs should be three lines long at the most, though don't be afraid to go over that if you have to.

Example

The girl riding in the back of the transport fidgeted as the transcontinental flight neared its end. Short and slender, her youthful features and sporty, pure-white hair were at odds with the navy pattern camouflage fatigues she was wearing. With a weary sigh she looked at the navigational display on the front bulkhead of cargo craft and sat up. "I still say I could have made it on my own."

The display switched from a map of their flightplan to a larger scale map showing most of North America; a dotted line tracing a route from Vancouver, south through Panama, then up to the eastern seaboard. "Setting side the issues with fuel or the Canal; it would have taken you way longer to reach Brockton Bay than flying. You just wanted an excuse to go to the Caribbean." A woman's' voice on the intercom speakers was slightly teasing.

"Well, of course, Dragon. There's some really nice museums on the gulf coast. It would have been educational."

"Remember what I briefed you on about the E-NE leadership."

The girl sat up a little straighter. "Piggot, PRT Director. Military background, combat veteran; classified prior actions have left her with a low opinion of parahumans in general. Armsmaster, Protectorate team leader. Former Ward, Tinker specializing in miniaturization and efficiency. Undiagnosed autism-spectrum disorder. Miss Militia, Protectorate XO and Wards commander. Another former Ward, versatile small arms Blaster."

"Go on..."

"All three will react positively to a polite and professional approach; so catching a direct flight, particularly riding in one of your red-eye cargo flights, shows I'm willing to sacrifice comforts and get to work. Which is good. Military courtesy I can do. PR... not so much."

"I think the costume Mr. Chambers came up for you is adorable."

"Dragon, please. I'm a warship, not ... I don't do cute. I definitely don't do 'Sailor Moon'."

"I'm just glad he nixed your first choice of codename."

"Destroyer is both descriptive and it isn't taken."

"Dani, I get that you're proud of your abilities; but reminding the people you're supposed to be helping that you can level a city block... probably not the best for making them feel comfortable around you."

"And Dragon does?"

"We're on final, secure your gear and prepare for landing."

"Oh, well isn't that convenient timing." Dani smirked a little and zipped up her field jacket.

Note
Also, you have a lot of double spaces that shouldn't be there.

Example
"Well, of course, Dragon. There's some really nice museums on the gulf coast. It would have been educational."
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa^ There is an extra space here


Otherwise, I'm always excited to see new Kancolle fic's, I'll be watching this one.

 

[ChaoticSky]

Danielle DeWolfe, 15, from Comox, Canada. Triggered and joined the Vancouver Wards March 3rd.

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and a woman wearing fatigues with a flag scarf pulled up to cover the bottom half of her face; who'd been a personal hero of mine even before I triggered.

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Does this seem odd to anyone else?

A canadian has a walking american patriotism commercial, from the literal opposite side of the continent as a personal hero? I mean, youd expect her to idolize popular local capes, or failing that, super popular capes in general(triumverate, dragon, etc). MM isnt even super famous in america. Dani would have had to do research, find out Miss Milita exists, and study her career before deciding she liked them without any personal stake at all... then decide to idolize this person.

Or on the other hand, she could walk down the road and meet local heros at the Protectorate Vancouver HQ, grew up being saturated in PR for those heros, who were also keeping her home safe from villains.

I mean, Taylor had Armsmaster undies for a reason, not Chevalier ones.

 

[Taliserian]

SV ate my spacing.

Does this seem odd to anyone else?

Click to shrink...

Admittedly, yes, it is odd, from a certain viewpoint.

It ties into Dani's background before she triggered. She wasn't a cape geek. She was a military history geek. The sort of person who owns every Sabaton album. The kind of person who, in our earth, would be a big fan of Tom Clancy and play Warthunder incessantly. Her interest isn't based on: "Oh she's the best superhero ever." It's more: "There's this hero whos' power can mimic anything from a spatha to a Davey Crocket launcher?"

The internet can lead down some very strange rabbit holes. So yes, while Dani is more directly familiar with capes from the South Coast, MM is a personal favorite because Dani likes the power; and researched the public profile of the hero it was associated with.

 

[SneakyDevil]

Does this seem odd to anyone else?

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Ah, well you see. It is quite simple if you really think about it. The author is an uncreative individual who couldn't even take the time to look up the parahuman sheet that WB himself has edited to see if there were any Canadian heroes. Or they really like MM so therefore their SI OC does too. Or they are lazy.

Honestly, I stopped reading once I realized they didn't have even a slight grasp of what spacing or dialogue was.

(Though kudos for being intelligent enough to realize a different person speaking gets a new line.)

Edit: While the author has fixed the spacing(Congratz!) the fact that it had to be pointed out post-posting is still a shameful display regardless of reasoning.

 

[Automatonation]

Going to pitch in my two cents here: It Is by no means shameful to need a second or even a third pass at editing a story that you posted, especially, when you're not used to the way that this forum can mangle your formatting.

I thoroughly enjoyed this first chapter, and I'm looking forward to seeing how many butterflies our delightful little Destroyer throws into the mix.

And if you do want a Beta, I'll be happy to assist, just send a PM.

 

[gavinjon]

Really, really liking this now that the spacing is better.

 

[Taliserian]

Patrol Route Delta-3
9Aug10
1830 Lima

Brockton Bay was a shithole.
Oh, from the air or water it didn't look that bad; if you could ignore the urge to get a tetanus shot every time you laid eyes on the Ship Graveyard. And as long as you kept to the boardwalk and the financial district; it actually seemed like a nice place.
Unfortunately, we weren't there.

My first patrol after a public 'Meet and Greet' Sunday at the boardwalk; where I'd shown off on the water for some local press and answered a couple questions. Officially, Shadow Stalker was the patrol leader; but the black-clad hero was ghosting ahead as our scout as well; leaving me roof-hopping alongside Vista. I had to keep double-checking our route on my tablet; and it seemed like we were heading into 'even worse' territory. I glanced up, sighting off the Medhall Building and the Rig, then looked to the green-and-white heroine beside me. "So, any advice?"

"You're asking me?" I could almost see her surprised blink behind the green visor.

"You're a local, so you know the city better than me; and you're the most experienced Ward in the city, so… yeah? Heck, why aren't you leading the patrol?"

"Because Shadow Stalker's senior to me." The younger cape sounded as bitter as a Fort Nelson winter. "She'd probably be doing this route solo tonight if it weren't for having to show another older rookie the ropes."

"There are so many things wrong with that." I shook my head; then looked ahead. No sign of our supposed leader. "I get the impression that Shadow Stalker doesn't like me. She's been distant."

"Stalker doesn't like anyone. The only reason you haven't been on the receiving end of her vicious side is because she thinks you're sandbagging during training."

"Umm, yeah? I mean, of course I'm sandbagging in hand to hand drills; I need to learn technique, not build brute strength. Heh."

"Right, but between that and whatever mysterious project you and Miss Militia skirted off for yesterday afternoon?" Vista tilted her head at me curiously, but I just shook mine and shrugged in response. "Fine then. Yeah, you show up out of nowhere along with a mysterious cargo delivery from Dragon; you've got power ratings on your internal PRT profile that neither you nor Aegis are even mentioning. Stalker's a bully; but you're too much of an unknown. Once she has a better handle on you, she'll decide if she can push you around." The diminutive space-warper sighed. "And then the fun starts."

"Speaking of fun." I pointed up a side street running perpendicular to our route, then pulled out a pair of binoculars. Vista just mimed holding a pair; but I could see by the ripples of distorted space she was probably using her power to the same effect. "That's a very nice Lexus in a very bad part of town."

"With a very flat tire and nobody inside it." Vista confirmed. "This is ABB territory, maybe they're doing a spike-and-rob? Call it in, rookie."

"Console, Shadow Stalker; Haida. Eyes on a new model Lexus sedan, corner of east forty second street and Lafayette. Vanity plate number eight uniform romeo November three. Vehicle has ...two flat tires, both passenger side. No sign of occupants. Deviating from patrol route to investigate.

"Console copies." Kid Win's voice came back immediately. "Velocity's about ten minutes out; I'll update him."

"Thanks Console."

Vista nodded to me and scrunched space so we could step across and overlook the alleyway. A half dozen young men in ABB colors; one of whom had a shotgun held in a threatening manner in the general direction of the cowering older man in a suit. I pulled out a little digital camera on a heavily weighted stand, quickly pointing it down at the altercation while Vista quietly reported our findings to Kid Win. But then the ganger with the Elmer Fudd Special pointed it at the victim and there was no time left.

"I'll shorten your fall if you can tank the hit. I'll get the civvy out. Console, Vista; we're going to need that backup."

I nodded acknowledgement of the plan. I wanted to just drop a containment foam depth charge; but nooo, they had to take away all my toys. Even my small arms locker was empty. One of the modern nicknames for escort ships is 'mobile missile interceptor'; because it's better for a can to take an ASM hit than a carrier. It was time to put that to the test as I backed up, took two steps, and lept into the rippling ring of tortured reality Vista was making.

I landed right on top of the sobbing lawyer, my back to the blast as the shotgun went off at point blank range. Now, contrary to what the movies might want you to believe; there's not enough kinetic energy in even a shogun blast to blow a normal-sized person across the room. It's actually about the same as a good, solid punch. Moving a lot faster and hitting a smaller area. Thankfully that area happened to be the back of my jacket, woven layers of kevlar and concealed segmented spine protector spreading the hit out over a larger area and turning it back into just a pro boxers' all-out punch to the spine. A punch that hit the keel and inch-thick steel hull of two and a half kilotons of warship. In the moment it took me to register that yes, I had in fact been shot in the back, Vista did her part and pulled the lawyer out through space so contorted you could almost hear reality weep for mercy.

Standing up, I turned around to confront the shooter, and didn't even have time to flinch before the second barrel went off in my face. I grabbed the still-smoking barrel and squeezed as I pulled the empty weapon from his hands. It took some effort to keep my voice calm and level. "Ok. I was willing to give you the first one. Let's be fair, I knowingly startled someone carrying a loaded firearm. That's on me. But this?" I spat out some of the double ought buckshot that had gone into my mouth; my bandanna was not ballistic rated. "This is just irresponsible gun ownership. You could have hurt someone. Not me, obviously; but the ricochettes might have hit one of your friends here. Now, why don't you just get down on the ground and put your hands behind your back, and think about the possible consequences of your actions. And you lot; do you really want to be friends with this trigger-happy nut?" The ABB members looked at me, looked at their friends' bent gun, then at Vista cheerily waving from the mouth of the alley before they decided to lay down and be good. Vista helped me zip-cuff them.

Velocity arrived before the BBPD did, to find me washing the gunshot residue from my face with a towel and a basin of warm soapy water on the hood of the car, a second jacket and a spare bandanna ready to go once I was done cleaning up. Vista was enjoying a can of pepsi and the thugs on the ground had been allowed to sit up under her watchful gaze; after being checked for further weapons. The lawyer was sitting in his car, on his cell phone. "Report?"

"Civvy rescued, suspects apprehended, no casualties." I shrugged into my spare jacket. "I think I got some buckshot up my nose. Deal with that later. Camera got everything and my jacket's evidence." I picked up the hygiene supplies and stowed them under my spare jacket. Velocity just… stared.

"Her power is bullship." Vista commented with a little salute from her cold can of cola that I'd provided her.

"Vista, language." Velocity threw her a look.

"Bull ship." The younger girl said again, popping the P.

I shrugged and Velocity sighed, strolling over to the ABB thugs. "So, gentlemen. Things went a bit unexpected for you tonight I see?"

The ganger who'd had the shotgun seemed almost a little delirious at this point. "She didn't hit me. I shot her in the face and she didn't hit me."

"Apparently he's met Glory Girl before." Vista smiled.

"Yeah, and we've got about a mountain of paperwork to fill out." I rolled my eyes as Vista's smile died. "Each. Console, Haida, Velocity and LEOs are on scene; turning over custody and RTB for debrief. Oh, and ask Medical if they know any way to get buckshot out of sinuses please." I couldn't bring myself to ask the question that was really bugging me. In all this, where the hell was Shadow Stalker?

Spoiler: A/N

Thanks to Automatonation for some support and a quick once-over of this second chapter; and to Sneakydevil for caring enough to take the time and write about how much they hate the first. The worst reaction any creative endeavor can get is a 'meh'.

Edit: And ChaoticSky for their corrections.

 

[ChaoticSky]

Fort Mac winter

Click to shrink...

Why is she commenting on winter conditions in a town in another province? Shes from Comox BC and was stationed in Vancouver BC. Shed have to have spent a good deal of time there to pick up slang like that. Edmonton at leased.

Shorten my fall, I'll tank the hit. Get the civvy out. Console, Haida; we're going to need that backup."

Click to shrink...

First shes deferring to Vista, telling her how much more experience she has, but as soon as something happens she starts snapping out orders?

 

[Lackofgravitas]

Ship girl bullshit.
If theres no war she's smart and intelligent and see's vista as an more experienced cape and local.
Trouble starts and suddenly she's a Canadian ww2 destroyer and she charges in though all the abb are still alive and not pink mist.

 

[SneakyDevil]

and to Sneakydevil for caring enough to take the time and write about how much they hate the first. The worst reaction any creative endeavor can get is a 'meh'.

Click to shrink...

That is true enough lad. Don't take it too personally.

Best of luck finishing. o7

 

[Taliserian]

Why is she commenting on winter conditions in a town in another province?

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Nobody in Fort McMurray is from Fort McMurray. There's a reason it's called 'The second largest city in Newfoundland'. Still, it's a simple enough fix.
There's plenty of cold cities in every province; and a surprisingly large number of them are Fort Something.

First shes deferring to Vista, telling her how much more experience she has, but as soon as something happens she starts snapping out orders?

Click to shrink...

...
Huh. I honestly hadn't even noticed that. Yeah, that's going to need a fix. An ensign may outrank a master chief on paper; but the smart ensign's going to listen to the chief.

 

[ChaoticSky]

Nobody in Fort McMurray is from Fort McMurray. There's a reason it's called 'The second largest city in Newfoundland'. Still, it's a simple enough fix.
There's plenty of cold cities in every province; and a surprisingly large number of them are Fort Something.
...
Huh. I honestly hadn't even noticed that. Yeah, that's going to need a fix. An ensign may outrank a master chief on paper; but the smart ensign's going to listen to the chief.

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Not wrong. I just throught it was odd for her to reference Alberta when BC has plenty of cold places its self. Especially since its bracketed with mountains and right next to the ocean. And doesnt get along with Alberta at all

 

[Ravenwood240]

Dani took command because she's a vet. Yes, she deferred to Vista as a local who knows the area, who can guide her, fill her in on local colour and people.

But, when the shit hit the fan, Dani has the experience, and apparently, faster reaction times. As a combat veteran, and an officer, taking command is in her blood and shipsoul.

Edited for brain cramp fixing.

 

[Taliserian]

Taylor

Click to shrink...

Who?
This is the summer before The Locker Incident. (and, incidentally, the summer AFTER the bullying campaign started). Taylor hasn't even been mentioned yet.

But, when the shit hit the fan, Dani has the experience, and apparently, faster reaction times. As a combat veteran, and an officer, taking command is in her blood and shipsoul.

Click to shrink...

(FTFY) The opening arc is titled Shakedown for a reason; it's covering Dani's probationary period. Think of it like sea trials; making sure everything works right and she's actually going to be a usable asset to the Wards ENE and able to act as part of the team. ChaoticSky raised a good point; and I've gone back and done an edit that reassigns the plan to Vista; who is a combat veteran and in command of the patrol in the absence of Shadow Stalker.


At this point, Haida's experience is limited to patrols in Vancouver and Search and Rescue work in that region. There hasn't been a situation that's escalated to the point where even what she dismisses as her "Light stuff" would be a justifiable use of force. Most parahumans, even in canon, are not bulletproof. 20mm Oerlikons are overkill against someone holding up a convenience store; and she's got six. Thus Piggot's stipulation that Haida has to empty her magazines until she proves to Miss Militia, the local firearms expert, that she does indeed know what she's actually doing with that firepower.

Spoiler: What was on the plane?

Dragon's cargo flight that Dani rode on was carrying pallets of ammunition for Haida's guns. Not just main and secondary battery shells, but 20mm and 40mm rounds adapted from shotgun and grenade launcher less-lethal munitions; plus things like flashbang, containment foam, CS, and stingball grenades for her depth-charge throwers. Even Brockton Bay doesn't really have Villains where a salvo of 120mm hi-cap wouldn't be considered Excessive Force. Except Lung; and it'd probably just make him madder; while causing unacceptable collateral damage.

 

[ranmatoushin]

. Even Brockton Bay doesn't really have Villains where a salvo of 120mm hi-cap wouldn't be considered Excessive Force. Except Lung; and it'd probably just make him madder; while causing unacceptable collateral damage.

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Not even Lung can handle that until he's bulked up quite a bit.
At baseline before he gets into a fight he is still roughly human, remember that Skitters bugs were able to bite him and inject venom, so even in the first minutes of a fight he'd probably be killed by guns that heavy.

 

[Taliserian]

If Lung could be killed by a high-powered rifle shot to the head, somebody would have done it already. Even if he's useful for face-tanking the occasional Endbringer, he's pissed off enough entirely ordinary, unpowered people that somebody must have taken a shot at him already. The Unwritten Rules only cover capes, after all; and people like the PRT who play by the capes' rules.

Misquoting Dr. Banner here: "I got low, I tried to eat a gun. The Other Guy spat it out."

 

[Ravenwood240]

Who?
This is the summer before The Locker Incident. (and, incidentally, the summer AFTER the bullying campaign started). Taylor hasn't even been mentioned yet.

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Oops? This thread followed the other kamcolle thread in my watched thread list. My mistake.
The point stands, however. Unless you are changing it Dani has all the combat experience of the ship she is the soul of, decades of it, making her the veteran once the shit starts.

 

[TheAkashicTraveller]

If Lung could be killed by a high-powered rifle shot to the head, somebody would have done it already. Even if he's useful for face-tanking the occasional Endbringer, he's pissed of enough entirely ordinary, unpowered people that somebody must have taken a shot at him already. The Unwritten Rules only cover capes, after all; and people like the PRT who play by the capes' rules.

Misquoting Dr. Banner here: "I got low, I tried to eat a gun. The Other Guy spat it out."

Click to shrink...

Following that: He can be damaged while not ramped up but his regeneration still works and it apparently takes a lot more to stop that. For example Armsmaster having to come up with a fancy tinkertech tranq rather than just ambushing him with a regular one when not ramped up.

 

[Employee #709]

Bull ship.
Bull ship.
Tee hee. Bull ship.
It got stuck in my mind.
Is there a ship named Taurus or something?
Cuz that would really be a bull ship.

 

[Tisaku]

Confined to base until ammo offload, aye.

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-I'm guessing she didn't tell them about the relationship between her stores and food? Namely the bit where she automatically turns noms into dakka.-

pretty sure Miss Militia can't do tank cannons

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-She was quite insulted by this the first time he said it-

Velocity's about ten minutes out; I'll update him."

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-So somewhere in Boston then?-

 

[Taliserian]

So somewhere in Boston then?

Click to shrink...

Give a guy a break, even superheros need to use the bathroom occasionally.

Bull ship.
Is there a ship named Taurus or something?

Click to shrink...

Just sticking in the WW2 period: HMS Minotaur, lead ship of her class, was renamed HMCS Ontario when she was given to the Canadian navy. HMS Taurus was a british submarine, serving for a while as the Royal Netherlands Navy

Following that: He can be damaged while not ramped up but his regeneration still works and it apparently takes a lot more to stop that. For example Armsmaster having to come up with a fancy tinkertech tranq rather than just ambushing him with a regular one when not ramped up.

Click to shrink...

Exactly my thinking. If you miss, you've made him angry. If you hit, you've given yourself a head start and made him angrier. Either way there's an angry dragon after you.

 

[Taliserian]

"The Rig"
10Aug10, 1537 Lima

A little spot of weather had rolled in overnight and the oppressively grey sky had been raining on and off for most of the morning. No that I cared. Any day where you didn't have to have a crew with sledgehammers beating five centimeters of ice off your rails was t-shirt weather as far as I was concerned, so I was in shorts and a tank top. The two PRT troopers on guard duty looked a little less thrilled to have me hanging out on their wharf with my fishing rod until they learned that my power also included a coffee maker. Even some severe sniffles weren't going to keep me from enjoying an off duty day.

I had just cast out my lure again when I heard the hatch open and the two sentries stiffen; so I stood and turned as well. Miss Militia nodded to the two troopers. "Dave, Arnold. Danielle, good; I was hoping to find you down here. I know you're off duty after last night, but if you've got a moment, I'd like to discuss some of the inventory that Dragon sent us on that flight you piggybacked?"

"Of course ma'am, just let me stow my gear." It took longer to reel in than to stash the rod; but when an officer says 'at your convenience', what they really mean is 'right now'. Shortly, we were riding the elevator up the leg of the converted oil rig so we could cross over to the one that held the magazine.

"How are you feeling after last night? Brockton Bay's nightlife can be a bit intense at first; especially since we have to augment our high-risk patrol roster with our Wards."

It took me a moment to figure out how to answer that. "Congested." At her raised eyebrow, I elaborated. "My power's weird, beyond just how it makes the laws of physics weep. There's part of me that remembers things that I've never done. Like, I remember being part of the escort for JW-55B; learning that the Scharnhorst, a fast battleship designed to raid convoys, had sortied to intercept us. Admiral Fraser had a task force to sink her; he was using us as bait. If they failed, we were next; just a handful of tin cans between that marauder's twenty-eight centimeter guns and the freighters keeping the Russians in the fight…"

The Protectorate hero looked worried above her bandanna as my voice trailed off. "You get flashbacks to sixty year old wars?"

"Yeah; so having to keep blowing my nose because of some double-ought buckshot rattling around my sinuses isn't really that disturbing to me." The elevator dinged, depositing us on the lowest deck that spanned all four legs; and we started walking the corridor. "A possibly personal question, if I may, Ma'am?"

"You can ask."

"This has been bugging a group of my old friends and I since I was twelve. We used to argue about it on message boards. Can your power actually do a Davy Crockett launcher?" The flat stare she gave me was enough to shut me up until we started down the other leg.

"There was one piece of good news I wanted to share; you passed both the written 'use of force' test and you know how your qualification shooting went; so you'll be getting your federal concealed carry permit. Congratulations."

I chuckled softly. "Kinda figured that when you said you wanted to go over my ammo shipment." The magazines were located in the lower pontoon; a simple safety feature so that in the event of a fire, even with a complete loss of power; the ammunition bunkers could be flooded with sea water through simple mechanical valves. I eyed the bulkheads and took several deep breaths.

"Are you ok?" Miss Militia's hand on my shoulder helped snap me out of a rising panic attack.

"Sorry, it's just… I'm a destroyer, not a submarine. I have issues with confined spaces in general; but ones that are under water…" Another deep breath. "I'll be ok if I focus. What can I help you with?"

"I was hoping you could familiarize me with what we're working with here so I can design a testing program for next week. Your grumbling about wanting 'Just one confoam bomb' was noted during the debrief of the monday night incident." She gestured at the fire-resistant crates filling the large storage room.

I nodded. "After I joined the Vancouver Wards, Dragon got involved in helping to adapt munitions designs for my guns. Some of us can't cheat and actually need to reload. So, top to bottom?" At her nod, I moved through the crates; then reached for the Changer side of my power; bringing more of my ship-self to the fore as I readied for combat.

I called it my Rigging, after the absolute plethora of halyards and stays that graced a sailboat's mast. Mostly it consisted of a bulky backpack topped by a single teardrop smokestack, with straps running over my shoulders and around my waist. A mismatched pair of twin turrets stood over my shoulders, while two more rode the backs of a pair of half-fingered gloves. Steel boots covered my legs to mid-calf. I made sure nothing, not even the comically small seeming twin close defense guns on my knees, hips, and shoulders were pointed anywhere near my superior.

"Main battery, Royal Ordnance QF four point seven inch mark twelve, three twin turrets and stowage for three hundred rounds per gun. Ammunition: Containment Foam, star shell, smoke, high-capacity, canister, and armor piercing ballistic capped. For obvious reasons, Dragon didn't manufacture a lot of those last ones for me. Secondary, Royal Ordnance QF four inch mark sixteen. One twin mount with three hundred sixty rounds per gun." The smaller of my four turrets, over my left shoulder, waggled to bring attention. "More of the same, but the load is biased even further away from AP in favor of more smoke and high cap. Primarily supposed to be an AA gun, but it's got better elevation and muzzle velocity so it's also longer ranged than my primaries. Nearly eighteen kilometers to my main's fifteen and a bit. A touch more accurate, too."

"I understand that you've got access to the aiming systems for these weapons as well? Your PRT profile mentions radar, and if your power works the way the profile says; you've got a ballistic computer?"

"Analog, but it works. It's also in my head, so not exactly something we can refit. I also have sonar; but I don't see that ever coming into play. Similarly; no torpedos. One quad launcher, twenty one inch tubes; but nothing for them. I suppose I could use the ejection pulse as an air cannon. Depth charges? One rack and two mark four throwers. Basically, anything you can do in a hand grenade format; but I've always got a 'hand' free to toss them. Which is what I was muttering about in the debrief. I could have just dropped a containment foam bomb off the rooftop and caught the entire group of assailants."

Miss Militia shook her head. "Containment foam isn't the solution to every problem."

"No, duct tape is. Containment foam is just faster." I groped for my kleenex again, forgetting I had a gun turret on the back of my hand. A brief struggle ensued before I could tease some out of my pocket pincered between two fingers and blow my nose. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem. Director Piggot mentioned autocannons?"

"Close in defense, one quad forty mil pom-pom and six twin twenty millimeter oerlikon guns. Because of my Breaker side, these are able to cycle properly even at reduced charge. Something Dragon worked out for me, actually." I grinned sheepishly. "Anyways, at lower charge, they're ballistically similar to an M-two oh three and a ten gauge, respectively, though of course higher cyclic and multibarrel. The twenties, I think, are my best bet for direct engagements, forties are more of a crowd control thing."

Miss Militia nodded. "Even in Brockton Bay there's not much call for that level of force. I can think of only two villains offhand where it might escalate to that. And neither Lung nor Squealer have a kill order yet; despite how much Squealer's designs offend Armsmaster." She chuckled softly. "So, the image that I'm getting is that you've basically got two settings. You're either a one-girl SWAT team with enough less-lethal ordinance to stop a riot; on the other you-"

"Can lay waste to a city block faster than most people can order a coffee." I interrupted; then let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry. You of all people know what it's like to be the one bringing a gun to a fist fight. I'll… I'll admit, it's the real reason I wanted to transfer here. You are the gun cape. People respect and trust you to use your power responsibly. I know that guns are verboten under the Rules because it's too easy to escalate to lethality, but you've got a reputation… I'm really hoping I can sort of piggy-back on it for PR purposes. 'Oh, it's OK, she was a Ward under Miss Militia.'" I let out a frustrated sigh and glared at the ceiling. That was a mistake, my rangefinder told me exactly how close it was; and all my instincts screamed 'Too close!'

As long as we were discussing ballistics and cyclic rates, I wasn't thinking about the fact that I was in an old civilian-built steel box a tenth my size with the surface a deck above my head and the chain was tightening around my ankles and pulling me down while they just laughed and there was no way up…

"Danielle? Dani!" Miss Militia grabbed my arm again and it took conscious effort to skew my turrets away from her sudden contact. Her other hand grabbed my chin, lightly, making me look at her face instead of the walls. "Change back, head back upstairs and go for a skate. Clear your head, maybe go ashore. Go do teenager stuff. Just be back by ten."

"Aye Ma'am." I managed to gasp out, then bolted.

^v^V^v^​

Boardwalk
1645 Lima

It occured to me as I drifted backwards parallel to the boardwalk that I had absolutely no clue what teenager stuff would consist of for a girl my age in this city. I couldn't hang out with friends, since I didn't know any of the Wards in their civilian personas. Shrugging, I pulled out my tablet. The internet has all the answers.

Your search terms: 'Fun things to do in Brockton Bay'
Returned 1 result: Leave

Click to shrink...

The internet also had a perverse sense of humour; so I stowed the tablet and headed for shore. And since I was officially off duty until the IA investigation into the officer-involved shooting on my last patrol was sorted out; I followed that up by taking off my jacket and bandanna. Still, it was going to be better than the fallout from the Youth Guard when they found out I'd thrown myself in front of a bullet.

The boardwalk on this part of the shore was elevated a few feet over the rocky beach, so I leaped up; intending to grab and vault the rail. Halfway through my plan, I nearly collided with a blonde girl holding up a cellphone. I froze as the shutter sound effect played.

"You suck at the whole secret identity thing." The girl smiled and stepped back so I could finish pulling myself over the rail.

I took a moment to blow my nose before replying. "Yeah, not a lot of phone booths out in the bay. Not that it would matter much." I ran my hand through my hair. "How many girls my age do you know with a white undercut?"

"Stop dying it? Get a hood? Or a wig?" Her green eyes sparkled mischievously.

"It's actually my natural color these days, and I had enough of a fight with the costume design people just to get pockets." She laugh as I rolled my eyes dramatically.

"You looked a little bored out there." The older girl put her phone away. "I'm just about to grab a bite to eat, care to join me?"

"Sure. Food's always a good idea." I grinned and held out a hand. "Dani, when I'm not working."

The other girl took it with a smile. "Lisa."

Spoiler: A/N:

So yeah, this one needed some editing. Specifically, cutting out the 'half hour of gun porn' that was in the original draft. I was agonizing over somehow engineering in my head a 20mm shell that wouldn't outright kill a car (let alone an unpowered thug), while still providing enough recoil energy to cycle the action. Then I remembered that shipgirl BS can work both ways, so when firing 10-gauge shotgun shells (more or less), the bolt has the inertia of a much smaller piece of metal, allowing the API blowback action to cycle properly despite the smaller powder charge. And there I go again.

I still don't have a clue what, if anything, I'm going to give her for her torpedoes. Single quad tube, 21-inch air cannon. I'm open to suggestions.

Edit: I made another pass over the section in the magazine; I think I managed to strike a balance without going Full Weber. Threadmark updated to reflect the revised status

 

[Darik29]

Considering Torpedo tubes have enough air pressure to knock someone the fuck out if they stand in front of one, converting them to nonlethal air pressure canons for crowd control seems legit.

Or hell, give her super light deployable drones that she can somehow launch from them.

Also, I have to ask. Does she have her Little People?