"Pretty accurate recreation..." Chaz whistled upon entering the British segment of the recently expanded Naval District. The area was two streets, both about fifty to a hundred meters long, with cobbled roads and red brick houses along both sides, making it very reminiscent of your average British street. Each building had no lawn, two floors, and a pavement in front, sparsely decorated by lampposts. In the middle row of houses, there was a gap to allow for a road, with a café positioned at one end. To their left, there was also a pub, called "The Drunken Sailor". Mutsu smiled at his comment.

"From what I hear, the Admiral was excited to be hosting the European and British fleets, and wanted to ensure you all felt at home at the Naval District," explained the brunette, "Thus, he applied for a grant to have more building funds for this section of the district, and the European segment." She frowned for a moment. "The architect must have spent three whole evenings watching British television whilst he tried to figure out what a British street looked like." Jack shrugged.

"Looks pretty much exactly like it did back home," he said calmly. "Even down to the café looking like it runs on a budget of fifty quid a day." Chaz nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, and the houses look just as depressing as they did back home," he noted. Mutsu tilted her head.

"So...you don't like it?" she asked. She looked genuinely saddened. Jack stepped in, raising a dismissive hand.

"Nah, I love it," he said quickly, grinning as Mutsu's expression changed from sad to confused, "It's part of the reason I wanted to stay in England, because I didn't want to have to sleep on one of those fucking fu...foo...fooooooo...t..." He struggled over the words, then stopped for a moment and looked at Chaz. "Chaz, what are th-"

"Futons," his companion said flatly. Jack raised a thumb.

"That's the one. Didn't want to sleep on one of those, it'd fuck my back up summat fierce." Mutsu slowly nodded, before bringing the trio to a stop in front of the house at the end of the street. Next to the building, which was house number 49, there was a railing, and a set of steps that went down to the beach in near the sheer drop at the end of street. From the moss that was halfway up the steps, they probably had it there for rapid deployment at high tide.

Mutsu fished in her pocket for a moment, before withdrawing a pair of keys, offering them to Jack, who promptly accepted them. "Here's the keys. I think there's food that was put in the kitchen, but I remember it only being enough for your dinner this evening. You'll need to head to the District's stores tomorrow to get some more." Jack nodded, looking at the house and thinking of the weird Japanese shit he was going to have to eat, before his mind went back to the absolute love of his life. He looked back at Mutsu.

"Can I park Annabelle on this street?" he asked. "I can't stand the thought of her being touched by one of those American arsefaces." Mutsu raised a brow.

"Who's...Annabe-?"

"His car." Chaz interjected. "He's besotted with it. It's actually rather unhealthy."

"I don't have a problem with it. Just be certain you can get it out again," Mutsu replied, blowing some hair from the side of her face. "Also, if you want to leave the District for any reason, you'll need to put in a request for time off from the Admiral, and bring your rigs with you." Chaz raised a hand.

"I thought we'd get arrested for carrying our equipment with us," he said calmly. Mutsu tilted her head, folding her arms.

"Oh my, whatever do you mean?"

"Gun laws are fucking mad serious over here, if I remember rightly," Jack explained, hands in his pockets. "And considering that part of a Fleet Boy's rig is his gun; Well! That won't go down well, especially considering that Fleet Boys are technically out of active service." Mutsu waved a dismissive hand.

"It'll be fine. You two go and have a good evening." With that, she smiled, and turned to walk back out of the street, humming to herself. Jack and Chaz simply watched her walking away for a moment, the sound of the ocean behind them. By then, the sun was nearly down, so the whole area was basked in a warm orange light.

"Pretty warm," Chaz noted.

"Mmm," Jack grunted. "Let's get inside. I'm bloody hungry."

"Don't need to tell me twice." The two Cruisers picked up their bags, and moved to the door. Jack took the keys, unlocking the heavy door bolt, and then pushing it open with his knee. Inside, it was exactly like your average London home; A thin entry hallway, a set of stairs right in front of the door, and a kitchen at the end of the hall. To the right, there was a living room, and just beyond that was a dining room of some description. The kitchen had a back door that Chaz assumed led into an alleyway between the two streets. After dumping their bags by the door, they both headed straight for the kitchen.

On the table was a medium sized bag, containing some frozen battered fish, a bag of chips, and a two litre bottle of Irn Bru. Jack squealed with delight upon seeing it. "FUCK YES, IRN BRU!" he cried, picking up the bottle instantly and placing it into the fridge after hugging it. Chaz was taken aback at the outburst.

"Holy hell, you like that stuff?"

"Fucking LOVE IT," Jack replied, pointing a finger at his fellow ship as he closed the fridge door. "It's the best thing to come out of Scotland since the loud cries of angry Scots at their failed bid for independence. And that, Chaz, takes some beating." Chaz just shrugged, removing the chips and fish from the bag and reading the packaging.

"Personally, I'm not the biggest fan..." he muttered. "Right, says we cook the fish for twenty five to thirty minutes, and the chips we cook for twenty five minutes." Jack grunted an 'uh-huh' as he went through cupboards to find a baking tray, and the oven instructions.

"Then we cook both for twenty seven and a half," he said firmly, withdrawing a black metal tray and placing it on the table. "Put 'em on there, I'll find the oven instructions." Chaz nodded, and opened the packaging. Meanwhile, Jack started rifling through drawers for a moment.

Finally, he let out a gasp. "Haha!" he grinned, withdrawing a small white booklet. "That's the bloody one." He flicked it open, and began looking it over. A frown went over his face. "Oi, Chaz. You can read nip-nong, right?"

"You mean Kanji?" Chaz replied. Jack nodded.

"Yeah, that. You can read that shit, right?"

"Yeah. Why, is it all in Japanese?" Slowly, Jack nodded.

"Yeah. Figure the oven out, would you? I'm gonna go grab Annabelle from where I left her." Chaz was handed the instructions for the oven, and before he could protest, Jack was out the door. He was left in the house on his own.

Also, Jack had left the house keys on the table.

"Pillock," Chaz muttered, beginning to eye over the lettering. "Turn second right dial to two o' clock...then push in." He did as instructed, moving over the kitchen and reaching towards the white plastic dial. After some resistance, he was able to turn the knob and push it in. The results were instant; The oven made a loud click as the fans kicked in at the back, and the orange light turned on. Continuing, Chaz looked at the booklet again. "Far right is temperature..." He immediately set it to 200°c, and then turned away. "There, oven's ready. I'll just leave it for a bi-"

There was a knock at the door.

Chaz froze, and looked down the hall. Sure enough, in the small glazed window at the top of the door, there was a black silhouette. Whoever it was, they were standing straight.

Jack had literally just left. And if it was Jack knocking on the door, he'd still be bashing it with his fist, probably also in the process of shooting the lock with his gun.

Thus, Chaz could safely determine that it was definitely wasn't Jack. Silently, he began to advance down the hall towards the front door, drawing his Webley to position it behind his back. Upon reaching the door, he reached forward and pulled the door open a crack to cautiously peek out.

Standing on the front porch was a blue-uniformed young woman with long, blonde hair and a wicker basket in her hands. She was almost curiously peeking through the crack in the door, and upon meeting Chaz's gaze with her own, she gave a large grin. "Hello, British sailing man!" she said cheerfully. 'Yep. Definitely a Jap.' "I just came by to be of checking that you are find the accommodation to be of liking?"

Chaz raised a brow, then slowly nodded. "Uh-huh...what's your name, sorry?" The woman looked momentarily surprised, then stood up straight, smiling once more.

"Many sorrys, where are of the manners of mine?" The woman bowed her head slightly. "I am Heavy Cruiser Atago! You can be of callings me by name Atago!"

Chaz rubbed his forehead, subtly slipping his Webley away as he opened the door. "Alright then...Atago," he began, "Besides checking in on us, what's with the basket?" The basket was shoved in his face, with Atago pulling back the cover on top.

"These are gifts of welcome I give to new Cruisers from countries of international!" beamed the blonde, Chaz cautiously looking down into the basket. Two bottles of Sake, and a Tanto knife, all neatly wrapped together in a bundle of straw. Jesus fuck, she really did go all out. Forcing a grin, he looked back up at her.

"Aw, thanks!" he said politely, accepting the basket. "Cruisers of the same class gotta watch out for each other, right?" Atago curtseyed, giggling, and now that the basket was out of the way...

Mother of God.

Her tits were goddamn enormous.

Her blue uniform looked to be in pain from trying to hold them in place, and as she bobbed on the spot, her ample chest bounced considerably. Now that was all Chaz could focus his eyes on. Fuck. Quickly, he shook his head clear. "A-Anyway, Atago..."

"Yes?"

"Where did you learn to speak English?" She smiled, and placed her hands in front of her, sandwiching her breasts and forcing them to bulge out slightly. Chaz swallowed from the effort required to not gaze at them in awe.

"I was teach of the language of English by Russian fleet cruiser of light variety," she explained, "She was of doing good job, I am think." Chaz rubbed his forehead, exhaling.

How could he put this inoffensively? "No offense, but...no, she did a shit job." Atago's smile dropped.

"What are of meaning, comrade?"

"Your sentences are jagged, not stitched together correctly, and generally grammatically incorrect. You have the pronunciation down to a tee, but your sentence structure's bad. Course, that's not your fault, since a student's only as good as their teacher, but still, it could do with work." Atago stared blankly at him, looking rather saddened for a moment.

"Oh." She looked around for a moment, then back at him. "Could you be of teachings me better English, Comrade Sue Sex?" Chaz nearly spat out his invisible tea.

"I'm sorry, but what did you say my name was?" Atago blinked.

"...you are not Comrade Sue Sex?"

"N-No."

"Oh. Then you are Comrade London?"

"No, but at least you pronounced his name correctly."

"I have to be of knowings how to be of say London, Comrade: Is place of the important in England Navy, no?"

"Not particularly. My name's Charlie, Charlie Sussex." Atago looked at him, then frowned.

"Soo...sux..." she repeated, quite carefully. "S...Soosex?" Chaz shrugged.

"Close enough. Anyway, cheers for the basket. Guarantee that Jack's gonna love the knife." The smile returned to the woman's face.

"Do not be of worryings, comrade!" she beamed. "I am of the givings glorious basket of goodness to all arrivals of new on district of fleet! Is part of my job!" Steadily, she turned, and began to depart down the pavement again. "I will be of the seeings you at later day, tovarisch?" Atago waved as she turned midway down the street. Chaz paused, then smiled, and waved back to her.

"Sure, sounds fine by me, Atago."

The girl smiled, then turned back after a final wave, beginning to practically skip down the empty road, no doubt to go and give another basket to someone else. After watching her depart for another few moments, Chaz turned around, and headed back inside, closing the door. "Lovely girl..." he said to himself, picking up his bag and beginning to march upstairs. "English is a bit shite, though."

He shrugged as he started up the stairs.

Maybe she was just a one-off.

Meanwhile, across the base...

Despite the rapidly setting sun and rapidly declining temperature, Jack still had both his sunglasses on, and his green shirt sleeves rolled up. The only thing he was really doing in order to keep warm was placing his hands into his pockets, fiddling with his keys as he went. In contrast to everyone else he had walked past wearing either traditional clothing from their country, or military uniforms, he was wearing what would probably count as casual clothes: Green shirt, jeans, boots, and a black shirt beneath. The only elements that weren't to be counted as casual (Unless you live in a US State where open carry is legal) was the set of bandoliers over his chest, and the Webley revolver holster rig set onto his belt.

He could definitely feel some stares from a group of what he assumed were Australian fleet girls as he went past. Undoubtedly, most of them hadn't ever seen a fleet boy so casually flaunting a gun around. In fact, most of them probably hadn't seen a gun before. Australian Naval forces had rules against their fleet boys carrying their sidearms at all times.

It made Jack glad to be in the Royal Navy.

Any fighter that doesn't carry a weapon at all times is incorrectly dressed.

Those thoughts aside, he kept a clear focus in his head: He needed to retrieve Annabelle from where she was parked in the parade square. She was the only thing that mattered to him. Shit, kill everyone at the district, he'd be quite annoyed. Blow up the district, he'd be rather upset.

But blow up Annabelle, his first batch manufactured Ford Falcon XB GT Hardtop , with custom leather seats, supercharger poking from the bonnet, and aftermarket body kit parts?

That was YOUR fucking death wish.

Annabelle was London's life.

If anybody were to ask Chaz, he could probably confirm that he once caught Jack snuggled up next to Annabelle in a car park back at Plymouth, sleeping soundly and hugging the large blower that stuck up from the bonnet.

It was an almost disturbing relationship between genetically engineered anthropomorphic reincarnation of a military-grade Heavy Cruiser warship, and a car.

Though, it was as Jack approached that he felt a spike in his blood pressure. There, parked next to Annabelle, was a silver Audi R8. Surrounding the vehicle, there was a large group of German fleeters; One fleet boy, and the rest were fleet girls. He could hear German pop music blaring through the Audi's speakers, and the loud talking of the Germans in question.

He clenched his fists inside his pocket, frowned behind his sunglasses, and removed the keys from his pocket. As he approached, none of the Germans had noticed him, and he didn't care, because he wasn't looking for anything to do with them. He approached the two cars, closing in on Annabelle, and then calmly walked past the Germans. Their music continued playing, and their conversations continued without him even getting a sideways glance as he went to the driver's side of Annabelle. After giving her the once over, he was certain that they hadn't touched her, so he unlocked the door.

Just as he was getting into the vehicle, he heard a voice.

"Nice car."

Jack paused, and looked over to the other side of Annabelle. There, looking back at him, was the fleet boy that was with the Germans. The girls carried on talking, but the brown-haired lad had turned his attention to Jack. The Englishman hesitated before answering. "...uh, cheers." 'Nice car' wasn't his favourite conversation starter.

"Ford Falcon XB GT Hardtop," the German continued in his fairly noticeable accent, pacing up and down the side of Annabelle. "Likely a five-point-seven liter V8 Supercharger. Custom body panels. Looks to be recently restored, considering the condition." Jack looked at him.

"All correct, except the last point," he replied calmly. "Bought this back in 1974. First manufactured batch. Kept it maintained ever since." The German raised his eyebrows, folding his arms.

"I must say, that is impressive."

"Thanks." Jack glanced over at the Audi next to his car. "Yours?"

"Ach, nein, I wish," smirked the German, looking back at the silver R8. "This is Frauleine Bismarck's car. She bought it last year and had it sent over here when the order for the mass transition was given."

"Hmm. Rather nice, gotta admit. Those're going for about forty grand each, right?"

"Yes, they are rather affordable when it comes to supercars." The German wiped at his brow. "Bismarck had been keeping her eye on one since they were released. I think this is her idea of a 'dream purchase'. It only cost her half of her annual salary, too." Jack raised his brows in surprise.

"Fucking hell, she's a big earner, then. Must be nice on a Officer's salary. How much're you paid?" The German stuffed his hands into his uniform pockets, and looked back at him in an almost skeptical way.

"Enough. Why?"

"Just curious, 's all." There was a pause between the two. "You got a name?" The German breathed in, before removing a hand from his pocket and extending it over the roof of Annabelle.

"My name is Wilhelm Berlin. Reincarnation of the SMS Berlin." Jack extended his own hand, and gripped Wilhelm's in a firm shake.

"My name's Jack London. Reincarnation of the HMS London." Both men narrowed their eyes at each other.

Then, they burst out laughing, slightly confusing the fleet girls nearby.

"There certainly is some irony here!" Wilhelm laughed. "Berlin and London! We share the names of the capitals of two formerly warring countries, and now we are enjoying a discussion about cars? What is the world coming to?"

"Funny how times change, ain't it?" Jack replied, leaning onto the roof of Annabelle with a smile. Wilhelm flashed a grin, and folded his arms.

"Yes...it rather is."

After a few more minutes of comparing Annabelle with a top-of-the-line German supercar, Jack bid his new friend goodbye, and lit Annabelle's engine with an almost angry roar. He honked the horn to move some of the German destroyer girls out of the way, then slowly drove away into the darkness.

In his mirrors, he was fairly certain he could see a certain blonde battleship sitting in the driver's seat of the Audi, observing him with a rather annoyed expression.

A few minutes later, back at the house...

The two British fleet boys didn't exactly speak much as they ate their fish and chips. A solid meal, for sure, but the silence mostly existed because of the lack of initiation. Neither Jack nor Chaz opted to speak, instead choosing to enjoy their meals in silence.

Finally, Chaz cleared his throat. "So, uh..." Jack turned his eyes up to look at his fleetmate.

"Aye?" Silence reigned again.

"...we, uh, we had a visitor earlier."

"Really?" Jack asked. Chaz nodded.

"Yeah. Some Japanese cruiser. Gave us that basket over there." He gestured over to the wicker basket that was sat on the kitchen counter, prompting Jack to glance over.

"Huh. Anything interesting in it?"

"Two bottles of that sake stuff, and a tanto knife." Jack raised his brows in approval, placing some more fish into his mouth and beginning to chew.

"Fair do," he mused. "I get-"

"You can have the knife, yeah. Not like you'd try the alcohol, you straight-edged bastard."

"Jog on. Anyway, was the Cruiser nice?"

"Yeah. Blonde, really friendly, absolutely massive tits. Uniform looked like it was struggling to hold them in."

"Hot damn, sounds nice. You get her name?"

"She said her name was Atago. Proper broken English, though." Chaz hesitated, frowning in contemplation. "I wonder if I should teach English here." Jack just scoffed.

"They can learn it from someone else."

Chaz shrugged. "She got taught English by some Russian fleeter-"

He was interrupted by Jack slamming his fist on the table. "Fucking Commie bastards!" he yelled angrily, pointing at Chaz. "Right, fuck it: Tomorrow, you go out and apply for a job in teaching English." His partner was rather taken aback.

"What?!" he cried. "Why me, can't you do it?"

"You're welcome to call me in to help whenever you need it, but you better teach them how to never call anyone a fucking 'Tovarisch'."

"Then what're you gonna do?"

"Had an idea whilst talking with one of the Krauts when I was picking up Annabelle. We decided that when his car shows up, we'd do supply runs around the district and drop people off in the nearby city. Probably a good means of cash, plus I get to drive Annabelle." Chaz leaned back, and folded his arms.

"I guess you have a point."

"Indeed I do. People always want something moved, fleeters or objects."

"Then it's settled. I go for teaching-"

"-and I go for transit."

The two men grabbed their glasses of Irn Bru, and raised them up.

"Cheers to that," Chaz said flatly.

"Too fucking right," Jack grunted.

Their glasses tapped together.