"Holy fucking monkey tits, dude, you got THIRTEEN MORE of them ship girls?" Benjamin Yamamoto's voice scrapes through the phone.
"Yeah, dude. And next time, don'tcha ever blast me for bringin' 'em printer guns along, they woulda shot me on the spot if I hadn't had 'em bring 'em otherwise," Damon snarls.
"What the fuck ever, dude. So now what? What're you gonna do from here?"
Damon glances over at his fleet of ship girls, some of whom, notably the carriers, are especially closely knit together in socialization. Ise, too, is talking animatedly with her fellow battleships and battlecruiser. It is as if all of them somehow already know each other and are friends, if not close friends.
"We're gonna get transferred to a military base along the east coast somewhere," Damon says quickly, lowering his voice as if there is anyone else who might hear who's not supposed to hear. "Blackwood said he'd come back 'n talk me through the details."
"Blackwood? You mean the motherfucking President?"
"What other Blackwood ya know who's got any ounce 'a political power?"
"So from that base, you'll be heading across the Atlantic?"
"That's the plan."
"Geez. If I wasn't so holed up with work, I would've tried to go along with you. Don't know if the Feds have a problem with that."
"They shouldn't, Blackwood said that we're technically our own fleet now, so that kinda implies that he doesn't give a shit what I do with my fleet, or who I get to work with me, for that matter."
"Fucking sweet. Hey, the next time you go on a mission, bring me with you. I can manage all the logistics and battle movements, I want to try and test out all the battle theories I've always made up in my head while reading up old World War II battle plans."
"My ship girls ain't some guinea pigs for ya ta test out some damn outdated operation movements, asshole."
"That wasn't what I was trying to get at, but a'ight...by the way, is this call being monitored? What kind of phone are you using right now?"
"Chill, bro, I'm usin' Sanford's cell. And in case they are monitorin' this shit, I've already hacked it to be a secure connection."
"You have me to thank for that, just saying."
"And you got me ta decide whether 'r not I feel like it's worth draggin' your skinny ass along with us for a ride."
Damon can hear Benjamin snort in amusement.
"Anything else you can tell me?"
"Nah. I tell ya anythin' else, you might sell this shit off as info to info brokers down there, so fuck off, 'cause I know you will."
"Psh, bitch, please. Sure, this's some exciting info you gave me, but even the shit you've told me isn't enough to do much except generate some excitement among the people who actually keep in touch with Fed politics 'n international relations that America's been trying to pursue. We kinda already knew that America was trying to strike something up with England for quite some time, and the fact that you mentioned it's been three years basically confirms that."
"Yamamoto."
"Sup."
"You got any dirt on what the Feds were talkin' 'bout with the British?"
"Hm...I could tell you, but I'd have to charge you. And don't get pissed off at me, you already know I'm a fucking info broker, so it's not fair business to other people who want this info to not charge you for this first."
"Bullshit, more like you want the fuckin' greenbacks in your pocket."
"Either pay or I'm hanging up."
"Fine, I'll fuckin' pay you, just put it on a tab for now 'r somethin' until I get down there again to pick up those pistols we left back there. Whaddya got?"
"Cool. So, listen up, I'm only sayin' this shit once. They're mainly talking arms deals. It's pretty common knowledge that England wants more guns since they can't trust the rest of continental Europe at the moment, and England and America have traditionally kept pretty good relations after the war. But we don't know what the Feds want out of this, it hasn't been very clear. We don't know if it's like some sort of resource, or maybe a few spare nukes that England might still have lying around, but nothing's really convincing. For one, if England has, like, certain weapons that the Feds want, why don't they just fucking use those guns? If it's nukes that the Feds want, why the bloody hell would England give NUKES up? Bottom line, we don't know what England wants that the Feds want. It's gonna be up to you to find out what the Feds're looking for."
"Somethin' that the Feds want from the British..." Damon murmurs, tapping his knuckles against his teeth. "What the hell would they want, huh..."
"You're not going to find any answers from me."
"I know, ya prick, now fuckin' shut the hell up, you didn't even tell me anything important, fuckin' rip-off." Damon cuts the call. Sighing, annoyed that he probably just wasted a hundred bucks or so, Damon turns around just in time to see Sanford and another man walk into their room, who he recognizes almost immediately.
"Chuck!" Damon exclaims in pleasant surprise as a tall and well-built Indian man gives him a huge smile in return and heartily shakes his hand. Some of the nearby ship girls glance over at them, wondering who this new guy is whom Damon seems to know. "Dude, it's been years! How's it been? And why the fuck're ya even here?"
"Old friend call me, he say it is time to fight again," Chuck says in a deep, booming and friendly voice as he nudges Sanford cheerfully. "He say it is time to finally fight with next generation of our unit."
Damon rolls his eyes, but not sarcastically as he usually does it. "Yeah, right, I thought Seal Team 6 broke up a long time ago. You even told me that. Besides, even if it was still around, I wouldn't join it. I got my own plans."
"Sometimes, good to go back to the past. As you Americans always say, 'the good old times'."
Chuck raises his knuckles, and Damon pounds it. "Good to see ya again, Chuck. Really is," Damon grins, then faces Sanford. "You called him here? How the hell, dude?"
"Chuck happened to be in Springfield, so I contacted him and told him to get over here as soon as he could," Sanford explains. "Listen, we've got a lot to talk about. How long did the President say he'd take 'til he was gonna come back 'n talk to ya?"
Damon shrugs.
"The hell if I know."
"Then - "
"U-um, Admiral!"
Sanford is then interrupted by Shoukaku, who is pulling her sister Zuikaku by the hand over to Damon.
"Oh! Um..." Shoukaku, standing before the three men, then realizes that she just interrupted their conversation, and she bows quickly, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "W-Was I interrupting something? I'm - I'm terribly sorry - "
"Nah, not at all, if there's somethin' ya need to say to good ol' kiddo here, go right on ahead," Sanford chuckles, backing away.
"What, need somethin' from me?" Damon asks. He notices that most of the other ship girls, especially the ones whom he has recently acquired from the President, have turned to him to look on to further observe their new admiral.
"We...we just want to thank you for bringing us together again," Shoukaku stammers. "I...I didn't actually think we would find one another so soon, but...and let alone so quickly, but...but thank you so much." Shoukaku bows again. "Zuikaku, give Admiral your thanks too, for without his actions, we would have never been able to see each other!"
Zuikaku glares at Damon. "Why should I? I don't care what he's done for anyone, all I care about is that we've finally been able to get together again," she says spitefully, turning to her older sister.
"Zuikaku!" Shoukaku reprimands her younger sister. "That is not how you behave in front of this man! He is now your Admiral too, the man who brought us together to begin with! Give him some respect!"
"Screw that, I won't. It's not like he's gonna be any better than any of those people we've had to take orders from for the last month," Zuikaku spits. "You make him sound different."
"That is because he is! Zuikaku, you - "
"A'ight, Shoukaku, that's 'nough from you," Damon sighs loudly and raises a hand to get Shoukaku to shut up. "I just got done tellin' the President 'a the United States to go fuck himself, so the last thing I want is more arguments over myself." He turns to Zuikaku. "And you're wonderin' how I'm so different from the others, huh? Ya mean that?"
Zuikaku, seeing Damon has approached her with a piercing gaze, tries to look straight back at him directly into his eyes but quickly averts them once she realizes just how strong his gaze seems to be.
"O-Of course I do," Zuikaku mutters. "We all know how Admirals are supposed to be. Sit behind desks and push pencils all day and fill out reports and tell us what to do out at sea, where to go and fight enemies and such. And we all know what they try to do to us whenever no one's looking..."
Damon narrows his eyes. "How often did they treat ya like that?" he asks.
Zuikaku lowers her gaze. "All the fucking time," she hisses. "The soldiers, the officers, everyone who wasn't a woman was looking at all of us with those disgusting eyes. It wasn't pleasant, yeah, but at least if they looked at me or some of us who look older like that, I'd understand. But they were even looking at the destroyers like that! One of them even tried making a move on Akatsuki-chan just last week! It's so unbelievable."
Damon rolls his eyes. "Shimakaze said she'd been through the same down at Atlanta, too," Damon sighs. "It's just like I expected, there're always a plethora 'a assholes that infest the chain 'a command, wherever you go."
"So don't blame me for thinking you're the same way!" Zuikaku concludes emphatically. "We don't know who you are or what you want with us, but at least we can tell that clearly you've got a plan to use us for something. So until you prove that you're different than the rest, I won't let you near me or Shoukaku-nee-chan or anyone else! You got that?"
Damon pops a nasty smirk. "So a subordinate 'a mine's tellin' me what ta do? Givin' me orders, now? Is that how it is?"
"I-I just wanna make our boundaries clear, is all!" Zuikaku stutters quickly. "I wasn't trying to give you orders or talk back or anything!"
"Please, sir, please do not punish her, this is just the way she normally talks!" Shoukaku pleads with Damon before turning to Zuikaku. "Zuikaku, please, for the love of the Emperor, just - just calm down and do not talk to Admiral like this...!"
Damon shrugs, much to Zuikaku's surprise. "Punish her? Punish her for what? Talking back to me? Oh yeah, like I'm so completely offended by that, oohhh, aaahhh," he scoffs. "And if someone does try 'n come too close to you or anyone else you care 'bout, well, guess what? Now I'm givin' y'all permission to fuck 'em up."
Looking up at everyone else Damon says to his fleet, "Anyways, while it seems like I got everyone's attention, lemme introduce myself. I'm Damon Polchow, I'll be your new Admiral for at least the next six months. And for fuck's sake, try not to call me 'Admiral', a'ight?"
The new ship girls stare blankly at him.
"Umm..." one of the destroyers, Ikazuchi, raises her hand. "Why can't we call you Admiral, Commander?"
"Because it's weird to me and I ain't used to it, that's why," Damon says almost immediately, as if he were expecting someone to ask him why not. "People call me Damon, and that's what I want y'all to call me."
"But, sir, that - that isn't proper military protocol for us to address you by name," Ise, the battleship, says. "We - "
"Fuck military protocol, I don't give a damn 'bout it. I run my fleet the way I want to, and you're all part 'a my fleet, not the damn President's, is that clear?" Damon says. "I expect ya to follow my orders 'n my protocols. You'll find that I come to do things a lot differently than what you're mostly used to, a'ight? But get used to it. We're basically a private military force now, with me at the head. Nothin' more, nothin' less."
Damon claps his hands once.
"So I need to know names. Names, names, names. Startin' with you," Damon points at Tenryuu. "I want a name and class of ship."
Tenryuu puffs her chest out with crossed arms and an aggressive grin. "Tenryuu, first Tenryuu-Class Light Cruiser. Ya scared?"
"No. Next."
"At least pretend like you are!" Tenryuu cries, her snarky countenance quickly crumbling into an embarrassed one at Damon's abrupt reply.
"Tatsuta, second Tenryuu-Class Light Cruiser. I'm Tenryuu-chan's sister." Tatsuta gives Damon a bit of a sadistic, borderline creepy smile. "Don't blame me if your hand falls off if you try to touch me or my sister inappropriately~"
"Zuikaku, you already know that. I'm the second in the Shoukaku-Class carriers. And don't you dare touch my sister or the destroyers, that's my only warning."
Damon rolls his eyes yet again.
"I'm Ashigara, fourth Myoukou-Class Heavy Cruiser. Sometimes they call me the Hungry Wolf, but you don't have to call me that. By the way, we're heading out soon, right? We haven't had a chance to fight yet, so if you need someone to lead the front lines, I'll do it, okay?"
"Good to know. Next?"
"I'm I-168, I'm part of the Kaidai 6-A Class of submarines, but everyone calls me Imuya, it's the Japanese way of saying the numbers in my designation," Imuya explains as her fellow submarine, Iku, is busying herself with retying Imuya's hair. "But I don't mind if you call me 168 either...it's what all those mean American officers were calling me, anyway, so I got used to it, I guess."
"Not only is it freakin' weird to call someone by a set 'a numbers, but I've been callin' your friend there Iku, so...yeah. Anyways."
"My name's Kagerou, I'm the lead ship of the Kagerou-Class destroyers, and this's my - well, one of my many, many sisters who...aren't here with us right now, but, you know, hopefully we'll find them all. Anyways, she's Shiranui, Second-Class Kagerou, and she's a bit of a quiet one. I hope you treat us well - er, well, that is, better than what the other guys did, anyway..." Kagerou turns to Shiranui. "Hey, Nui-chan, say something."
Shiranui simply raises her hand at Damon. "Don't call me Nui-chan, commander, only Kagerou can call me that. And if you do, I'll fucking end you."
"Shit, dude, did your other commanders let you swear at 'em too?"
"No, but you're different and you look dumber than they did."
Sanford and Chuck whoop and cackle as Damon stares at Shiranui's caustic remarks.
"Yoooooo, kid, I'ma bring ya some ice water for that burn! I knew I wasn't the only one who still thinks you look retarded!" Sanford teases, adding salt to the wound.
Damon resists the extreme temptation to punch Sanford in the face. "Try 'n come back to me with that same shit in yer mouth a month down the road. I dunno 'bout other fucktards, but at least I know it ain't right tryin'a hit on little girls," Damon spits bitterly at Shiranui. "I might look dumb to you, but that means clearly you don't have a fucking clue what the difference is between looking dumb and being dumb. Next."
Kagerou quickly whispers to Shiranui, "Nui-chan, don't say anything that'll piss him off, okay? That wasn't called for!"
Shiranui simply shrugs her off.
"Ise, lead ship of the Ise-Class Battleships. I'm actually a super-dreadnought, but it's fine if you just refer to me a a battleship. I'm surprised that you managed to find Amagi-san here - I didn't know that she was actually constructed," Ise remarks, beckoning to the nearby Amagi, who smiles back.
Damon shrugs. "Luck 'a the draw, I guess. Next?"
"U-Uh...hello!" Sazanami says a bit too loudly, clearly nervous at meeting a new commander. "My name's Sazanami, a-and I'm the Ninth Ayanami-Class Destroyer! It's - It's really nice to meet you, M-Master!"
Damon gives a bit of a flinch at the word "Master".
"Now I know why you girls were bein' picked on by your previous commandin' officers," Damon says revoltingly, "like, seriously, 'Commander' or 'Admiral' or 'sir' is fine 'n all, but why the hell are you callin' me 'Master'?!"
"Th-That's how I would say it in Japanese!" Sanazami flails her arms about. "I mean, m-maybe there's something lost in translation, b-but that's how I'd normally address my commanding officer! It's completely normal in Japanese!"
"Not really..." Shiranui averts her gaze and snorts under her breath.
"Shiranui-chan, I heard that, don't make fun of me! Besides, I'm older than you too!" Sazanami cries indignantly at Shiranui's sarcastic behavior.
"Ya mean somethin's gained in translation, is more like it," Damon, too, shakes his head. "Can you jus' call me 'sir' or 'Commander' though? I don't feel right when people call me 'Master'. Ugh."
Sazanami pouts. "Do you hate me, Master?" The weird mini-rabbit thing on Sazanami's head seems to be staring at Damon intently, as if it, too, is wordlessly expecting an answer.
"No, I don't! I'm jus' tellin' you to call me by somethin' different!" Damon twists his lips, expressing his impatience.
"...fine, Commander."
"There we go, now I don't feel like a pedophilic pervert. Next."
"Oh!" Sazanami jumps in again, covering for her fellow Ayanami-Class ship sister. "Er...she's a bit...shy. She's Ushio, she's the Tenth and last Ayanami-Class destroyer." Ushio hesitantly looks up at Damon but quickly turns her head downwards, a bit frightened by Damon's intimidating and weird yellow eyes. "She...she got the worst of the bullying from our other commanders..."
"Huh? She got picked on the most? Why?" Damon asks.
Ushio shies away from Damon, hiding behind Sazanami when he asks why.
"Hey, don't ask such insensitive questions, you idiot!" Tenryuu quickly dashes over to Ushio and kneels down to hug her. "You're freakin' scaring her, can't'cha see?"
"Says the one who asked me if I was scared, a'ight, that makes a lotta sense..." Damon sighs. "And my fuckin' bad if I'm bein' insensitive, I'd rather know than not know, since she's now my destroyer, not theirs."
"It's because one of the officers accidentally walked in on her dressing one time," Zuikaku says, after a bit of hesitation, in a bit of a depressed tone. "And then before we knew it, there were all these rumors running around in the base we were stationed at about how Ushio had a bigger chest than it seems like. But don't you be using that as an excuse to harass Ushio-chan, otherwise we're gonna make you pay!"
Damon looks at Ushio's chest. For sure, Ushio certainly has bigger boobs than her overall appearance might imply, but it wasn't anything to wage wars over.
"Make me pay? But then why didn't you tell those other officers to lay off her?"
"Because they'd threaten to scrap us!" Sazanami cries out. "We couldn't do anything to protect Ushio-chan, let alone ourselves!"
"Well, okay, but...what's it 'bout me that you can call me out on this shit then?"
"Because you're a new Admiral, and it doesn't seem like you have anyone else with you, so...so we're making our boundaries clear right now! You got a problem?" Zuikaku fires back. Damon feels as though suddenly his newly acquired ship girls are slowly starting to become even more wary of him than they were before.
"Shit, if I'd known that you'd be all aggressive on me right off the get-go, maybe I should act a lot more strict 'n shit..." Damon waves his hand. "Well, whatever, forget what we jus' said, apparently that's taboo 'round here. Next, next, you fouuuurr..." Damon drags his words out as he turns to the last four remaining destroyers, who, judging by their similar uniforms, are all probably sisters.
"I-I'm Akatsuki of the Akatsuki-Class Destroyers!" Akatsuki looks up, eyes full of hope in the prospect of a new admiral. "Make sure to treat me like a first-class lady, okay? ? The others didn't treat me like a lady at all!"
Damon looks down at Akatsuki. Akatsuki barely stands up to his lower ribcage with her middle schooler-esque body and height, so Damon feels like it's hard to take her words seriously.
"Er...alright...?"
"Hey, you're not taking me seriously at all! I can tell!" Akatsuki pouts. "Don't let me down, you got that? Be polite to me!"
"Okay..."
Hibiki, contrary to her older sister, instead solemnly nods her head at Damon and tips her hat down a bit when Damon looks over at her. "Hibiki...second Akatsuki-Class," she says simply. A quiet girl of few words, just as what she looks like. "You can call me Phoenix if you want."
"Phoenix? Why?"
"During the war, I survived many battles...oftentimes taking what should've been fatal damage in lots of those battles," Hibiki explains in a quiet but somehow piercing voice.
"Cool. And you two?"
Ikazuchi, being the more outgoing one, predictably pipes up first. "I'm the Third Akatsuki-Class Destroyer, Ikazuchi, and this's our youngest sister Inazuma! But don't call me 'Kaminari', okay? I don't like it!"
Damon is a bit put back by Ikazuchi's seemingly overwhelming enthusiasm, compared to everyone else's reservedness and somberness.
"Kaminari...? What the hell...?"
"Girls, Admiral doesn't understand Japanese too well," Haruna explains, and she turns to Damon to elaborate. "Sir, it - you can write Ikazuchi's name in kanji to say 'Kaminari' instead, because the latter is an archaic way to say the word 'thunder'."
"Huh. So wait, 'Ikazuchi' means thunder?"
"Yes."
Damon turns to Inazuma. "Then wait, your name sounds similar to your sister's. What does yours mean?"
"Hawa...ehhh..." Inazuma stammers, surprised and suddenly nervous for having to speak with her new Admiral. "U-Um...m-my name means 'lightning'...and I, um, by the way, I - I'm the fourth and last Akatsuki-Class Destroyer, nanodesu..."
"Nano...desu? What? Is that like, another verbal tic?"
"It's like mine, nano!" Iku chimes in, and she lets go of Imuya to bound over to Inazuma and hug her from behind too. "We're gonna be besties, I can already feel it, nano!"
"H-Hey, get off Inazuma, she's my sister!" Ikazuchi squeaks, hugging Inazuma from the front.
"H-Hawaaawwaaa...p-please, you two, f-fighting is bad, nanodesu..." Inazuma tries to get the two to stop arguing, but her meekness prohibits her from actually being able to convince either of them to stop.
"Can you two get off Inazuma, please?" Damon sighs loudly, and Iku and Ikazuchi reluctantly do as he says, still giving each other angry looks. Iku sticks her tongue out at Ikazuchi, who returns the favor, before bounding back to Imuya and latching herself onto her fellow submarine instead.
"Okay," Damon says, relieved that the icebreakers are done, "now that we've gotten to know each other, I'll go over our basic itinerary in case y'all didn't pick up on it yet. We're gonna be transferred to a military base along the East Coast pretty soon. From there, we'll get over to England to help out the people over there, everyone follow?"
"U-Um..." Surprisingly, Ushio is the one to speak up. "Commander, y-you said...you said 'help' just now, right...?"
"Yeah, I did, why?"
"W-What's going on over - over in England? Are people being hurt?"
"Was everyone listenin' to our little conversation that I had with the President?" Damon looks around to take a verbal poll. Some of the ship girls nod, others shake their heads. "Huh. Funny, it wasn't like we were talkin' in small voices or anything...whatever. The basic gist 'a this shit's that there's this terrorist group called 'The Inner Circle' or somethin' dumb like that and they're plannin' on launchin' an invasion over to England to kill the royal family there 'n take over the country. We think they're gonna do the same to the rest 'a Europe if they succeed there."
Ushio clenches her fists. "Th-Then we need to go over there as fast as we can!" she states rather emphatically. To Damon, it seems hard to believe that such a shy, meek girl could possess such a resolute opinion like that. Maybe she just really wants to help people.
"Calm down, we're gonna be there once the President comes back with the complete details of our op," Damon assures her. "But here's the thing: the reason why I'm controllin' everyone here's 'cause these terrorists got ship girls 'a their own."
Many of the ship girls nod gravely, Ise in particular.
"It's pretty common knowledge among us that Kongou's part of the group of ship girls who got sent to England," Ise says. "Whatever kind of fleet they have there waiting for us, it's going to be strong, with them having Kongou on their side."
Damon looks at Ise. "Why, who's Kongou? Is she a badass ship girl 'r somethin'?"
Ise points at Haruna beside her, and Damon glances over. "Kongou's the older sister of Haruna here, and she's pretty damn strong. Not in terms of raw power, but her speed in conjunction with her firepower potential's what makes her scary. There's a reason why they're called 'Fast Battleships'."
Haruna looks, to put it bluntly, absolutely dejected at the possibility of having to fight her own older sister.
"Well, we'll deal with it once we get there. But yeah, like I said, we're gonna get transferred to a military base, and from there, we'll fly over to England. Dunno exactly where, they're gonna hafta tell us."
"Fly?" Akatsuki pipes up, her eyes as gleamy as ever. "Y-You mean those fascinating things in the sky that fly around? We're gonna go in one of those?"
"I mean, I sure hope so. I can't imagine us fuckin' sailing all across the goddamn Atlantic."
"Yaaaaaaay!" Akatsuki immediately turns to Hibiki, who is standing next to her, and grabs her by the shoulders. "Did you hear that, Hibiki-chan? We're gonna fly again!"
"Er...yes...so it seems..." Hibiki doesn't exactly know how to respond to Akatsuki's enthusiasm of flying.
"Hey, Admiral, you shouldn't cuss so much in front of the kids," Mutsu says scornfully to Damon. "They might be ships, but they're still kids, you know."
"Oh, if this's what we need to deal with from this one, then it's fine," Imuya replies dryly, rolling her eyes. "You should've seen the officers we had to deal with. We thought we were back home again sometimes just because of how much the soldiers and everyone else swore and used bad language."
"Eehhh...is that...so..." Mutsu gives an awkward chuckle. "Well...if...if they're used to it, then...well..."
"Awwwwwright, that means one 'a my new ship girls doesn't entirely fuckin' hate me!" Damon says in sarcastic self-deprecating humor, swinging his arm all happy-go-lucky-like.
Imuya glares at Damon, resentful of his sarcasm. "I might not hate you, but I never said I liked you either," Imuya frowns. "Don't go putting words in my mouth."
Damon rolls his own eyes back at her before turning to Sanford. "Yo, Sanford, ya got a clue where we're 'bout ta go? I ain't fond 'a standin' around in a fuckin' conference room all damn day."
Sanford shrugs. "Didn't I tell yo' lousy ass I ain't got a damn clue?"
"Bullshit, I heard yo' ass when we flew into Chicago the other day that you're some mothafuckin' Controller 'a New York state 'r somethin'!"
"Yeah, well, the President ain't got much of a reason ta trust me now, does he? Now that he's pretty fuckin' aware that you 'n I got some connections."
"Oh, what I'd do ta tell fuckin' Blackwood that we ain't got any connections."
"I'd imagine."
Damon turns to his new ship girls. "Just askin' everyone here, how much shootin' have y'all done?"
"Shooting?" Zuikaku asks. "You mean using our ship guns?"
"No, as in small arms shooting. You know, assault rifles 'n pistols 'n stuff."
The new ship girls stare blankly at him.
"But...why would we need something like that, Commander?" Sazanami asks.
Damon claps his hands once again. "A'ight, all 'a ya who were my ship girls before today, transferrin' memory files tiiiiiime!" Damon orders. "Wireless torrentin', file transfer 'n download, all that pizzazz, you know the drill." Damon's old ship girls pair up with his new ones to transfer files.
"Admiral, should we accept their memory files too?" Shigure asks, and Damon nods.
"Um, what's the point of this, Admiral?" Tenryuu asks as Murakumo hands her the memory files.
"It's gonna take too long explainin' what I've been up to this entire time and what I've been doin' with everyone else, so if ya got any questions, you can look back on these files," Damon says. "Plus, they also contain marksmanship programs that everyone else's produced while fightin' with me. That way, once I get y'all to start trainin' with small arms, you'll know exactly what ta do."
Damon watches with loosely crossed arms as the transfers complete one by one. Then, Ashigara gives a pleasantly surprised whistle.
"Quite impressive, Admiral," Ashigara grins at Damon, "so you've been fighting alongside your own ship girls? Very admirable."
The new ship girls, upon hearing this, give a multitude of varying reactions of surprise as they, too, browse through their newly acquired memory files to find the evidence.
"Oh, wow, you actually know how to fight?" Kagerou says with wonder. "No wonder you've been talking about us learning how to shoot rifles and such."
Damon looks bewildered. "Wait, what's so surprisin' about that?" he wonders aloud. "I mean, hell, y'all've been talkin' about how you've been hangin' out with soldiers 'n officers, why's the fact that I'm fighting too so amazing?"
Kagerou scratches her head. "Well, you see, most officers don't actually fight alongside their soldiers, right?"
"Well, all 'a you are ship girls who still seem to have memories 'a what you were before way back in the second world war. You had captains aboard y'all, fightin' with ya out at sea, right? How's this any different?"
"Well, shit, it sure as heck doesn't look like we have anyone aboard us now, when we're like this, right?" Tenryuu says, pointing at herself. "Now it's just, we get orders, and we do it, right? It ain't like an admiral has much of a reason, let alone a good reason, to fight with us, but yet here ya are, doing exactly that. That's why it's surprising."
"Get used to it, then, 'cause I'll be fightin' up in the front lines with all 'a ya, at least on land. On water's obviously a bit of a different story, but even then, I reckon I'll be nearby with air support or somethin', I dunno - "
A knock at the door, and as everyone turns to the doors, they open to let in the President, flanked by two Secret Service agents.
"Mr. Polchow, if you're ready," President Blackwood addresses Damon as courteously as ever, even though Damon is sure that courtesy is fake.
"Yo Blackwood, you don't mind if I bring one 'a my ship girls with me, do ya?" Damon asks Mr. Blackwood.
"Not at all. We do not plan on attacking you when we are depending on you to complete the operation on which we agreed you would carry out for us," Mr. Blackwood gives him a small smile. "If you'd follow me, please, with whichever naval personnel you'd like to bring along."
Damon nods at Murakumo. "On me."
"Huh? Wait, why me?" Murakumo asks.
"You know exactly why. C'mon."
Damon and Murakumo follow the President and his guards to the nearby smaller meeting room that Damon and his ship girls had gathered in just before meeting with the President for the first time. Once they are inside, the President faces Damon with his hands behind his back.
"Firstly, the finishing details of your operation, Mr. Polchow," President Blackwood begins. "In two hours, you and your naval personnel are to meet back here in the underground lot of the Chicago City Hall. There will be a military convoy prepared to transport you and your fleet to the Chicago O'Hare International Airport, from which you will be flown to the Chatham Naval Air Station in Massachusetts, and from there, you will be flown to Menwith Hill, a Royal Air Force airbase located in central England. Prime Minister Alton Holmwood will rendezvous with you there and give you further instructions and updated information regarding the current situation. Do you understand?"
"Yeah," Damon says simply.
"Good. I'd imagine you cannot arm your fleet all by yourself with the short amount of time that you will have before flying to the United Kingdom, so you can expect to supply your fleet at Chatham Naval Air Station. In addition, here is a card that contains your government clearance information. Needless to say, but that ought to be kept private."
Mr. Blackwood draws a small card, as if they were exchanging business cards, and offers it to Damon, who takes it quickly.
"Cool."
"Then if you understand, that is all that I have to say, besides good luck on your first mission." President Blackwood nods solemnly.
"Then can I go? Two hours ain't a lotta time, and I got shit that I need ta do 'fore I leave Chicago."
"One more thing."
"What?"
"Mr. Polchow, I would like to know how you came to know that I was the one who authorized the Genesis Thesis Project. Very few people know that fact."
Damon lifts up both of his hands at Mr. Blackwood.
"If all 'a my fingers were middle fingers, I'd flip ya off all damn day," Damon snarls. "In other words, fuck off, you don't need ta know that. Tell ya what, actually, why don'tcha tell me why this op's so damn important to ya and this damn country, eh? Whaddya want from England that's so damn important for us to haul ass over there 'n kick some terrorist butt? Tell me that, and we got a trade."
Mr. Blackwood slowly shakes his head. "I'm afraid I cannot speak with you about that matter," he says.
"Then you don't need to know how I found out."
"Very well. Perhaps I may find out on my own."
Damon's snarl turns into a deep smirk.
"Good luck tryin', bitch. I'd really like ta see you try. C'mon, Murakumo, let's get the fuck out."
Damon and Murakumo exit the small meeting room to go back to the large conference room, and the President and his Secret Service agents, too, leave and exit the floor entirely. Upon entering the conference room again, Damon again claps his hands loudly to get everyone's attention.
"A'ight, everyone, our Dear Leader's instructed us to meet at the O'Hare Airport in two hours!" Damon shouts sarcastically, though the reference blows over everyone's heads except for Chuck's and Sanford's. "Which means that I got shit ta do 'cause two hours ain't a lotta time! So where's what we're gonna do: I'm gonna bring some 'a ya along with me to take care 'a some last minute stuff, while the rest 'a ya head on over with Sanford and - " Damon stops short to turn to Chuck to ask him quickly, " - so you're comin' with us, right? - " to which Chuck nods, and thus Damon continues, " - our friend Chuck here over to the airport and wait for my little group there. From the airport, we'll head over to Chatham Station up in then from there we're gonna finally cross the pond to somewhere called Menwith Hill, wherever the fuck that is. Got it?"
Ise sighs heavily. "Back there, huh? That's where me, Ashigara, and Zuikaku got sent..."
"The ones who've been with me already know this, but Sanford here - " Damon points to Sanford - "he's one 'a the devs who worked on the F.L.E.E.T. Project. He also happens to be my 'godfather', though he's a nappy-headed bitch."
"Just ignore 'im, he's jus' butthurt," Sanford chuckles loudly.
"Fuck you. Also, Chuck's, like I said, a good friend 'a ours, so I want y'all to listen to him too," Damon instructs his ship girls. "He understands English perfectly, but his speaking ain't as refined, so try 'n be patient with him when you're talkin' to him, 'k?"
Chuck waves hello to the fleet girls.
"And lastly, I'll only say this one last time. I want all 'a ya to follow any order that any 'a us three give ya when we're out in combat, understand? The only exceptions to this are if we're out at sea and y'all know what ta do, since I dunno jack shit 'bout naval battles, and if you're in a situation where you gotta feel you hafta do somethin' to stay alive or save someone. That's it. if it ain't one 'a the two above, you listen to me, Chuck, or Sanford. If we disagree on shit, y'all are ta follow my orders, since I'm the mothafuckin' Admiral. This clear?"
The girls reply back with a solid "Yes, sir!"
"Okay then, now that that's outta the way, who wants ta come with me?"
Many of the destroyers, namely the Akatsuki-Class, enthusiastically raise their hands and voice their willingness. Counting the volunteers, Damon looks around for more.
"You three, Kaga 'n Shoukaku 'n your Zui-whatever sister," Damon points to the three carriers, "you mind comin' with me?"
"Wait, where're we gonna go? What're we gonna do?" Zuikaku immediately asks, clearly still suspicious of her new Admiral.
"Christ, if ya really need ta know, I gotta head back down to New Chicago to pick up the guns we left behind at my buddy's place, then haul ass over to the community airfield to pick up my heli so we can regroup with everyone else at O'Hare."
"Zuikaku, Admiral just wants us to help him, don't question everything that he asks of us," Shoukaku says, beginning to become weary of her younger sister's constant distrust of Damon. "Let us go with him. Right, Kaga-san?"
Kaga shrugs. "I do not particularly mind."
Damon, the carriers, and the destroyers who tag along with him recover the pistols that were left behind at Benjamin Yamamoto's residence in New Chicago, pick up the orders that Damon had given his weapons dealers a few days prior in the form of sturdy boxes big enough for some the destroyers to stand on, and are driven over to the community airfield of the Chicago CCPL by the same limousine and limousine driver who had been taxiing them around the city for the past few days. From there, as planned, Damon flies the Merlin, which has been patiently sitting in its assigned lot in the airfield and low on fuel, over to the O'Hare International Airport to regroup with the rest of his fleet. Using his newly acquired government clearance, Damon has his helicopter refueled, and after eating a hasty lunch, whoever and whatever cannot fit into the Merlin is flown in an accompanying Chinook helicopter over to Chatham Naval Air Station in Massachusetts.
"Got the cheap stuff, 'ey?" Sanford says as Damon breaks open the couple of boxes of gun parts that he had ordered from New Chicago and pulls out the barrel and stock of an M4-A3 assault rifle. The men and the fleet girls are occupying the shooting range at the naval air station, as Damon's older ship girls are showing the newer ones the basics of firearm marksmanship with the guns provided by the local gun storages. The loud cracks of rifle fire, even though they are in an open-air firing range, fill the air, and the men need to yell in order to make themselves heard.
"Wasn't exactly 'cheap', ya fuck," Damon calls back to Sanford as Sanford quickly assembles an M4-A4 assault rifle and marvels at his handiwork, amazed that he still remembers the field-stripping process of a rifle.
"Yeah? How much ya pay?"
"'Bout a grand for the M4's each, and barely two hundo for the AK's apiece," Damon says, pulling out some parts for an AK-M. "But I didn't buy a truckload, so whatever." Putting the AK-M assault rifle together, Damon lays down the contraption on a desk behind the ship girls practicing at the range and turns his cap around so that the visor can shield his eyes from the overcast sun. "I woulda haggled out a better deal, but given the time that I thought I'd have to work with, I wasn't in a position to bargain for more."
"I mean...fuck, these aren't the ol' M4-A1 models either, y'know," Sanford comments. "I guess yer eye for good guns's somethin'."
Damon snorts. "Better than yours, fucker."
"Psh, yeah, I bet," Sanford replies sarcastically. Putting down the M4-A4 in his hands alongside the AK-M on the table, Sanford watches Chuck help some maintenance crewmembers install two new .40mm nose autocannons onto the sides of the Lockheed Martin C-130 Hercules quad-engine transport plane parked out on the runway, being prepped to fly Damon and co. over to England within a few hours. "Hey, kiddo, you still remember what we did back down in Mobile?"
"I ain't got short-term memory loss like yer old bitch-ass, if that's what'cher sayin'."
"Haha, very funny, dipshit. I was talkin' with Dugalle before ya came over to the City Hall back in Chicago, and it's funny, 'cause he said those guys who were on board that destroyer we fought in the Gulf were complete fucking idiots."
"Huh? Wait, why?"
"Apparently the Tomahawk missile that it had on board that the girls managed to shoot down in time could've been fired on Mobile from a thousand miles out. So clearly whoever was mannin' the Tomahawk system onboard was a complete fuckin' degenerate."
"Like you?"
"Haaaaaa," Sanford makes a sarcastic Squidward-like impression. "Wouldn't be too different from you either, ya fuckboy."
Damon gives Sanford the stinkeye as he sets down the last of the four AK-M assault rifles on the table and beginning assembling the rest of the M4 rifle variants.
"By the way, kid, where ya plannin' on gettin' the damn ammo? There ain't nothin' in here," Sanford remarks, looking inside one of the boxes
"Gettin' it from the base."
"How're ya gonna convince 'em? It ain't like soldiers're fond 'a givin' some seventeen year ol' fuckboy their precious ammo."
"'Cause if they don't, the mothafuckin' President 'a the You-Knighted-Fuckin' States 'a 'Murica's gonna court-martial their asses, that's why."
Sanford chuckles. "Hoo boy, it's that simple, 'ey?"
"Hey, you just called me a fuckin' seventeen year ol' fuckboy. I think simple. If I don't get what I fuckin' want, someone's gonna fuckin' pay. And you're fuckin' lucky it ain't you this time 'round."
"Ooooohh, threats, threats..."
Damon peers down the iron sights of a second M4-A4 rifle.
"Yo, Sanford."
"What?"
"What's Blackwood hidin'? You must know."
"What's he hidin'? Kid, does it look like I fuckin' know?"
"You're the fuckin' Controller 'a New York or some crazy shit like - "
"Not anymore, bastard. 'Cause 'a you, I don't hold that title anymore."
"Why, 'cause yer affiliated with me now?"
"What else?"
Damon smirks evilly. "Sucks, doesn't it?"
"Not particularly. Ya think I'm actually dumb enough to go along with yer plan 'a world domination if I didn't wanna lose that job?"
"Yeah, in fact, I do."
Sanford laughs out loud. "Yer such a fuck," he chuckles again. "Listen here, kid. We all know the world's always been run by those assholes who got all the power; it's been that way ever since there were humans walkin' this godforsaken earth, humans who realized that if they push around the other humans, they'd be able ta control 'em. No matter how much people preach fuckin' equality 'n democracy, regardless 'a whether they're 'Murican or not, it's always gonna be the people like Blackwood who's got the bend people over 'n fuck 'em like they're his bitches. And then there's me, who doesn't really give a damn and who's jus' out to cover his own ass."
"Oh shit, I never knew we had somethin' in common," Damon mutters, not looking at Sanford as he puts together the second and last M4-A3 rifle but listening to his godfather anyway.
"Haw, haw. I'm also here ta make sure I'm that annoyin' dad that looks over his daughter, or in this case, thirty daughters, 'cause who the fuck knows what you'll do with 'em."
Damon scowls at Sanford harshly. "Bitch, do I look like an American fuckhead military officer?"
"You look like an idiot, in my opinion."
Damon flips Sanford off and lays down the M4-A4. Counting the guns, Damon counts four AK-M's, two M4-A3's, and two M4-A4's, just as he had ordered.
"Why did you buy all this crap, anyway? If you knew you were gonna get ammo, why not jus' go further 'n ask for rifles?"
"I coulda, but I was preppin' in case the negotiations went flat 'n I'd hafta shoot my fuckin' way outta Chicago."
"So you were even prepared for that..."
"Never can be too safe." Damon turns to watch Tenryuu haggle with Shoukaku, appearing to be begging the carrier to let her try out the McMillan TAC-50 sniper rifle slung over Shoukaku's back. "Baltimore taught me that."
Sanford's voice drops considerably when Damon brings up the mention of Baltimore.
"Baltimore taught'cha a lotta shit, didn't it?" Sanford mumbles, watching Shoukaku finally relent, despite Zuikaku's efforts to shoo Tenryuu away, and hand Tenryuu the .50 caliber sniper rifle, which Tenryuu holds with stunned marvel.
"Too much shit. And I really hope what I'm gettin' everyone into now sure as fuck doesn't turn out like that."
"It won't, kid. Even though London's nuked out, it ain't Baltimore - at least normal people still live there after they cleaned the radiation up."
"And why the fuck should I believe you? You weren't there at fuckin' Baltimore, ya asshole." Damon glances at Sanford with a piercing and accusative gaze. "All you had ta do was listen to the people who managed ta get the fuck out before Baltimore got quarantined 'n the post-event reports that rolled off after it. You weren't fuckin' there. 'Cause if you were, you'd question' fuckin' everythin'. Everythin'. You get me? No, you don't. You fuckin' don't."
"Well, while I wasn't there, I can at least assure ya that London ain't Baltimore. That much's for certain."
"Not yet."
Sanford rolls his eyes. "Kid, whatever ya saw in Baltimore ain't gonna be in London. Who the fuck knows what'll happen when radiation's exposed to people, a'ight? Jus' 'cause it happened in Baltimore doesn't mean it's gonna happen again."
"It ain't - about - the fucking - radiation."Damon hisses slowly.
"Then why the hell're ya stressin' out, kid? I thought you were this self-made idiotic badass who shrugged off a couple bullets like they were nothin'. What's goin' on, bro?"
"Oh, so it's all of a sudden weird ta be stressin' out over what's gonna happen to my new fleet?" Damon counters. "And maybe it's 'cause you're a fuckin' old-ass geezer, but there's a fuckin' difference 'tween stressin' 'n worryin'."
"What in the fuck are you even worryin' about, is the question."
Damon points to the fleet girls. "Who the fuck else?"
"Dude, you've been orderin' 'em around 'n shit for at least a good two weeks or so! And you're still not gettin' used to it? Kid, listen, I got some bad news for ya..."
"...which I don't give a shit about 'cause I'm too busy tryin' not ta end up bein' another asshole commander that they're gonna have!" Damon asserts. "Look, fuckface, I'll admit I don't know much 'bout the histories behind the girls I'm gonna give orders to, but at the very least I know that there weren't a lotta good officers who commanded 'em. And for sure it ain't fuckin' helpin' that not all 'a 'em are too stoked 'bout workin' with me here, not that I blame 'em."
Sanford facepalms. "Whatever, kid. If somethin' that trivial's botherin' the fuck outta ya, I'll let'cha handle that shit on yer own. It's the best way ta learn how to deal with it, anyway..."
Damon shakes his head. "Fine, whatever. Anyways, you never answered my fuckin' question, asshole."
"What question?"
"Blackwood, motherfucker!" Damon practically jumps off the table that he had been sitting on, next to an AK-M and an M4-A3. "He's gotta be hidin' some shit from me! For one, why did he fuckin' give me thirteen ship girls just like that? Why the fuck would the guy with the most amount 'a power in the Western Hemisphere jus' decide ta hand me his fuckin' ship girls? Like, jus' hand 'em over? This shit's shady as fuck, dude!"
Damon is yelling so loudly that the ship girls nearest to him along the firing range can hear him shouting even over the gunfire, although Damon is not yet aware of the loudness of his own voice.
"Also, more important than that! What the hell does Blackwood so fuckin' desperately want from the Brits, huh? Why the hell does Blackwood think it's so damn important for me to jus' up 'n take his ship girls straight outta his ass 'n take 'em across the damn pond to save the Goddamn queen? What do the fuckin' Brits have? They've gotta have somethin' damn important!"
Sanford is plugging his ears because Damon's voice is so loud. "Like, kid, are you seriously fuckin' autistic? The Project make yer brain turn out dumb, too? Like, why the fuck do you think I'd know how ta answer any 'a that?"
"'CAUSE YOU WERE WITH MOTHAFUCKIN' BLACKWOOD FOR TWO MOTHAFUCKIN' DAYS!"
"And yet I never fuckin' talked with him longer 'n fifteen minutes at a time, ya think I'd learn much 'a anythin'? Kid, did I ever tell you I give no fucks 'bout fuckin' politics? I think I have. And if I didn't, now you fucking know." Sanford crosses his arms, giving Damon the what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look with narrowed eyes.
Damon throws his arms up, sighing with disbelief.
"Christ, you're fuckin' taggin' along and yer not even makin' yerself useful. Holy hell..."
Sanford bursts into a short bout of sarcastic laughter. "So don'tcha come cryin' to me when somethin' bad happens when shit goes down, a'ight?"
"U-Um..."
A much smaller and feminine squeak comes from behind Damon. Damon and Sanford turn to see who it is, and Inazuma is clutching an old M16-A2 assault rifle that only a bit shorter than she is if it were to be stood up next to her. The barrel of the gun is pointing straight at Damon's leg, which Damon recognizes right away.
"C-Commander, is there something - " Inazuma begins, but Damon approaches her and firmly grabs Inazuma's M16-A2 and stands it up so that the barrel is pointing straight up.
"First, don't point gun barrels at anyone, either straight up or straight down. Preferably straight up," Damon mutters, having to kneel down next to Inazuma because he towers over her otherwise.
"Ha-Hawawawa! I-I'm so sorry, nanodesu!" Inazuma cries, blubbering her at her potentially fatal mistake. "I-It's just that - I've never h-handled a gun like this before, nanodesu..."
"It's fine, but don't do that next time."
"Y-Yes, Commander!"
"So what did you wanna say again?"
"Oh! Um..." Inazuma glances away from Damon. "I...a lot of us were just...just wondering what was wrong..."
Damon looks up at the firing range. Almost all of the ship girls are staring over in his direction at him and Sanford. No wonder he didn't hear any shots being fired for the past minute or so.
"It's nothin', Sanford 'n I jus' havin' an argument like usual," Damn shakes his head. "Don't worry 'bout it."
"A-Are you sure, nanodesu?"
"Listen, Inazuma, what goes on between me 'n Sanford's jus' between us two. I don't wanna hafta involve anyone else in it 'cause we're jus' bein' mean to each other, that's all. It ain't nothin' serious...well, hopefully it doesn't turn into anythin' serious."
But Inazuma continues to stare at him fearfully, not really yet convinced by Damon's reassurance. In order to change the topic, Damon stands back up.
"So have Shoukaku and the others taught ya how ta shoot yet?" Damon asks. "Well, actually, you technically should already know, but didja get ta practice yet?"
"O-Oh!" Inazuma perks up. "Er, I-I only got to shoot a few times...nanodesu..."
"Then go practice some more before we gotta leave - this's the only chance you'll get shootin' practice before we get thrown over the damn ocean," Damon says. "C'mon, I"ll go with ya." Damon swiftly turns around and points at the guns he has assembled on the table. "Don'tcha fuckin' touch those, Sanford, I want 'em there."
"A'ight, dude, it ain't like I was plannin' on doin' otherwise."
Damon walks Inazuma back to the nearby open-air firing range, back to where her other Akatsuki-Class ship sisters are.
"Those rifles look a bit too big for y'all," Damon notes the same M16 variants that Akatsuki, Hibiki, and Ikazuchi are holding. "They didn't get'cha shorter variants? Like M4's?"
They shake their heads.
"It's too uncomfortable to shoot," Ikazuchi complains. "I-I can't really look down the sights good enough..."
"Seriously, they ought to've accommodated us like the proper ladies we are!" Akatsuki shakes her head, making Damon roll his eyes a bit.
Tenryuu approaches Damon from his right, shouldering Shoukaku's McMillan TAC-50. "Yo, Admiral, what's the big idea here? Why aren't we out there practicin' what we're good at, huh?"
"Whaddya mean, 'out there'? You mean usin' your ship guns? Speakin' 'a which, they still haven't delivered 'em to us jus' yet..."
"Yeah! What the hell's the use 'a makin' us learn how to shoot these puny pieces 'a crap?"
Damon points at Tenryuu. "'Cause I'm gonna have ya learn how ta fight on land, too. Why else? Are ya gonna blast people to itty bitty fuckin' bits with your 14cm's, is that the plan here?"
"Well, no, that wasn't - that's not what I'm tryin'a get at, you idiot! We're ships! Ship girls, can'tcha understand that? We're supposed ta fight on water, out at sea! It ain't like we're gonna carry these things out onto the water with us!"
Damon raises an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah, you are."
Tenryuu slaps her face with her palm over her eyepatch. "Oh, for fuck's sake..."
Damon lightly karate-chops Tenryuu's head.
"The hell? What'd you - "
"Listen up, Ten...Ten? Was that your name?"
"It's Tenryuu, damn it!"
"Whatever, anyway. You still don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?"
"You said it yerself. You're a ship girl, not a ship. You got a human body now, which means you can run around on land and fight like a normal soldier, so that's exactly what I'm havin' y'all do. While your expressed purpose was ta go out 'n fight on water, since there ain't a problem with y'all fightin' on land, that's what I'm havin' ya do. Get it, or do I gotta repeat one more time?"
"Are you serious..." Tenryuu shakes her head. "You're not freakin' using us properly!"
"Oh, yes I am, bitch. Yer jus' not realizin' what yer capable of. This ain't fuckin' World War Two, and yer not jus' a damn hunk 'a metal that floats on water with big-ass guns. The ship girls I started out with can tell ya, the fights I'm gonna have everyone fight ain't the kinda fights you're used to, unless I have ya go fight shit out at sea. Got that?"
Tenryuu turns away from Damon, fed up with his bullshit. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, I guess..."
"Hey, ain't that sniper Shoukaku's?"
Tenryuu stops to look back at the sniper slung over her shoulder. "Yeah, it is."
"Why do you have it?"
"'Cause I asked her if I could shoot it, why?"
"Well then, have you shot it?"
"N-No, I was jus' gonna shoot it before you came along!"
"Wait, what's with the stutter."
"I-I didn't s-stutter!"
"Yeah ya fuckin' did, what's the matter?!" Damon slams a hand onto Tenryuu's shoulder, grinning murderously. "Ya scaaaaaaaaaared, Tenryuu? Scared 'a firin' a big friggin' sniper rifle like this? Why're ya scared, Tenryuu? Don't'cha fire much bigger guns than a flimsy fuckin' fiddycal? C'mon, tell me!"
"Y'know what!? First off, don't fuckin' touch me!" Tenryuu violently throws off Damon's hand and unslings the bolt-action sniper rifle and pushes up against the makeshift plastic folding tables set up in front of each of the targets on the firing range. The Akatsuki-Class destroyers gasp in unison, that their caretaker is going to fire such a cool-looking gun. "Lemme jus' shut'cha up real quick, alright?!"
Tenryuu shoulders the rifle, looks down the scope at one of the metal targets, and pulls the trigger.
And absolutely nothing happens.
Tatsuta, seeing this unfold, walks slowly up behind Tenryuu and whispers behind her ears,
"You scared, Tenryuu-chan? Hehehe."
And with that, she slowly walks away down the firing range.
Damon is doubled over, hands on knees, back facing Tenryuu, trying his very best not to laugh in her face, while the Akatsuki-Class destroyers are still watching Tenryuu, still hopeful for something cool to happen.
Shoukaku, who was watching Tenryuu with worry, walks up to her slowly and timidly tells her,
"Um...Tenryuu-san, your...the safety is still on."
Tenryuu has her rifle lowered, grinding her teeth and her face deep red.
"S...Shut up..." Tenryuu hisses weakly. Damon tries to compose himself as best he can, recognizing that Tenryuu has no idea how to shoot the rifle, and tries to keep a straight face as he points out the safety mechanism on the rifle.
"Try not ta make yerself look like an idiot this time, a'ight?" Damon smirks. Tenryuu threatens to point the rifle at him before attempting to fire a shot, and right as she pulls the trigger, Damon covers his ears, and the shot goes off and completely wrecks the metal target downrange. Tenryuu, caught by surprise by the power of the rifle, mishandles the recoil and causes her right arm to jerk about unnecessarily.
"W-Whoa..." Tenryuu blinks blankly. "W-What the hell just happened?"
"You jus' fired a fiddycal round, which should be fuckin' child's play for ya," Damon says, taking his hands off his ears. "Why're ya so surprised? Thought you should be used to this."
"W-Well, I didn't expect somethin' like this to handle this way!"
Damon gapes at Tenryuu. "Okay, well, a fiddycal's a strong gun, don't get me wrong, but you're a freakin' ship girl! And you said you're a light cruiser, right? So that must mean you shoot stuff like 14cms or somethin' stronger, 'cause I know that's what Murakumo uses!"
"But this crap's different!"
"How!? They're both guns!"
Tenryuu throws a finger pointed at Damon. "You don't get it, alright?! It feels different usin' a gun like this and a naval gun, okay? Now shut up! I'm so soooorryyy that I didn't know how strong this gun was!"
"Hey, hey! You two, don't fight!" Ikazuchi barges in between Damon and Tenryuu comically, Ikazuchi herself only standing up to just beneath Tenryuu's shoulders. Hibiki and Akatsuki are still staring in wonder at the destroyed metal target downrange, as are many other ship girls nearby who are wondering what that giant sniper rifle report came from. "Commander, don't blame Tenryuu for that, we've never used these kinds of guns before..."
Damon scratches the back of his head through his cap. "I mean, I get that, but still..." Damon shakes his head incredulously as Amatsukaze is hurrying over to him and slows from a brisk jog to a stop behind him.
"Admiral?" Amatsukaze asks to get his attention.
"Yeah?"
"One of the soldiers on duty told me to tell you that everyone's gear's going to be here in a few minutes, there's going to be a truck that's going to bring them up to us."
"Cool. How's everyone doin'?"
"How's everyone doing? What do you mean?"
"As in practicin' shootin'."
"Nothing wrong as far as I can see, but I've been helping Ushio and Sazanami with Shimakaze until now, so I can't speak for everyone..."
"Okay. Tenryuu, give Shoukaku back her gun, can't have ya wastin' fiddycal ammo 'cause that shit's mad rare ta come across. Everyone else, keep at it," Damon orders as he walks back to the Merlin parked near the table where he assembled together the rifles he had bought in Chicago. "Sanford, get off yer lazy ass 'n help me take inventory 'a the guns we got."
"You can do that on yer own, can't'cha? You've been callin' me an ol' geezer all this fuckin' time, it 'bout time that'cher young whippasnappa ass did somethin' productive."
"Shut the fuck up 'n get over here."
Damon and Sanford take stock of the weapons that are messily piled up in the Merlin's cargo bay. Damon's MK-14 Rogue Chassis designated marksman rifle, Damon's Glock 37, two AK-47's, the AR-15, the LSAT, two AA-12's, the DSR-50, the Desert Tactical HTI, one FS-2000, one AUG-A1, one Carbon-15, one Bushmaster ACR, one Tavor-21, one Remington 870, two H&K-417 DMR's, three Magpul FMG-9's, three MP5SD-6's, the four new AK-M's, the two new M4-A3's, the two new M4-A4's, a P-99, and fifteen USP .45 handguns. Because ammunition would presumably be taken care of, Damon instead assigns weapons to each of the ship girls, so his list ends up looking like...
Murakumo: AK-47
Amatsukaze: AK-47
Mutsu: LSAT
Iku: MP5SD-6 / USP 45
Shimakaze: AA-12 / USP 45
Kaga: Desert Tactical HTI / USP 45
Shigure: TAR-21
Yuudachi: R-870
Shoukaku: McMillan TAC-50 / USP 45
Samidare: AR-15 / USP 45
Suzukaze: AA-12 / USP 45
Haruna: M417 DMR / USP 45
Amagi: M417 DMR / USP 45
Furutaka: AK-M
Kitakami: M4-A3
Fusou: M4-A4
Tenryuu: AK-M / USP 45
Tatsuta: AK-M / USP 45
Zuikaku: DSR-50 / USP 45
Ashigara: M4-A4
I-168: MP5SD-6 / USP 45
Kagerou: FS-2000
Shiranui: Bushmaster ACR
Ise: AK-M
Sazanami: M4-A3
Ushio: Carbon 15
Akatsuki: Magpul FMG-9
Hibiki: Magpul FMG-9 / USP 45
Inazuma: MP5SD-6
Ikazuchi: Magpul FMG-9 / USP 45
"Uh, sir?"
Damon looks up from a clipboard he borrowed from the office at the base upon arriving, and he sees an unarmed soldier in military fatigues standing before him with a big military truck, complete with a camouflaged bed canopy. Damon had heard a truck drive up, but he didn't expect it to be headed for him in particular.
"Yeah, whas'sup?" Damon lowers his pencil and clipboard.
"You the commander of these girls, sir?"
"Yeah, tha's me."
"Okay, I was supposed to, uh, deliver their weapons, so they're in the back of this truck here. But I gotta take the truck back so we can use it for other stuff, so if you could help with the unloading..."
"Yeah, but 'fore that, I requested that we get stocked up on equipment 'n ammo from this base, you know when we're gonna get that stuff, too?"
"Actually, I was gonna go out there and pick those up after we unloaded the crates inside."
"A'ight, cool." Damon cups his hands over his mouth and hollers over the occasional gunfire coming from the range, "Oiiiii, giiiiiirls!" Some of the girls who can hear him turn to him to glance at him, and seeing him beckon them over towards him, Ashigara, Haruna, Suzukaze, Samidare, and Kagerou hurry over.
"What's up, Commander?" Kagerou asks first. "Didja need somethin' from us?"
Damon points at the truck. "We got'cher ship guns inside in their crates, so let's take 'em out."
"E-Er, careful, some of the crates are - " the soldier in fatigues begins cautiously when he sees Suzukaze jump into the back of the truck, but his voice trails off , partly in amazement, as Suzukaze hops out with one of the giant crates that is taller than herself easily carried over her shoulder. " - really...heavy...?"
"Commander, where should we put these?" Suzukaze asks, pointing at the crate that she is carrying. She makes it look like it weighs absolutely nothing at all.
"Behind the helicopter," Damon instructs. He climbs inside and drags each of the crates out so that the rest of the girls outside can take them from the front of the bed of the truck and stack them with the rest behind the Merlin. The soldier simply stands outside, shrugging to himself as he figures he doesn't have to do anything and let them do the heavy lifting. Within five minutes, the truck is completely emptied out, and Damon, huffing and beginning to sweat, hops out and wipes his forehead with the back of his right arm.
"A'ight, now that that's done, let's talk 'bout that ammo," Damon says. "We need STANAG mags, AK mags, thirty-round 9mm's, and other shit. Here..." Damon quickly writes down what they need and rips out that part of the paper and hands it to the soldier, who looks down the list.
"I mean, we can get you most of this stuff, I just don't know about the fifty cal ammo," the soldier mutters. "I'll take of this, since, well, I'm just glad I didn't have to do all that heavy lifting myself."
Damon and the soldier chuckle.
"By the way, uh..." the soldier asks, "are you, uh, really an Admiral? I heard the girls call you 'Admiral' or 'Commander' like that other one just did..."
Damon shakes his head rapidly. "No, no no. I ain't actually an Admiral, I'm just the dude who gives orders to these girls, that's all. It ain't like I got some fancy shmancy fuckin' rank or anything."
"Huh. Weird. Well, I'll try 'n get what you've requested here, so..."
The soldier shrugs one last time before climbing back into the truck and driving away.
"Commander, how long will we be staying here?" Samidare asks.
"Not for too much longer, but I need ta make sure everyone knows how to use the gun I'm givin' 'em here," Damon says. "Hopefully that shit doesn't take too long..."
Two hours pass before all preparations have been made. The Lockheed Martin C-130 transport plane has been fully loaded with supplies for the ship girls, like cans of fuel, bauxite bars, and steel patches, and emergency relief supplies for the English, including weapons and ammunition. The fleet girls, the newer ones having received weapons training to get used to their assigned weapons, have piled into the passenger hold with their guns and gearboxes as Chuck joins the pilot as co-pilot up in the flight deck. The four turbo engines are beginning to spool up.
Damon, with his magazine-less MK-14 Rogue Chassis DMR slung over his back, steps onto the lowered left side ramp. Fully geared, with his headset hanging around his neck, Damon is the last person to board the plane, but as he begins to climb the steps, he is stopped by a military officer in a beret and a graying mustache.
"Commander Polchow," the officer calls out, causing Damon to stop and turn around while still on the ramp. Damon stares down at the beretted officer.
"Yeah?"
"I'm Major Lester, I'm the guy in charge of this base here. You've got me to thank for preparing this C-130 for you all."
Damon continues to stare at Major Lester for a moment. "Uhhh...yeah, right," Damon nods quickly, "thanks...I suppose."
"You better be, Commander, I haven't heard of a seventeen year old becoming an Admiral of any sort of military task force. You'll need some serious help if you want to be a successful one."
"I wasn't aware that American military officers that're still around actually are interested in helpin' other people out at all."
Major Lester chuckles hoarsely. "Yeah, well, son, if you'd told me that twenty years ago, I would've wholeheartedly agreed. But even the last twenty years can change a hard-boiled motherfucker like me. I've seen too many incompetent sons 'a bitches take positions of power too important for the likes of them, and too often I've seen that happen within our own ranks in the American military. The fact that a young man like yourself's willing to take on a challenge like this means that you're the kinda kid this dying country needs."
"If a nation like America has to rest its hopes on a seventeen year old asshole, I feel sorry for the people who live in it, and for the people who have to fight for it."
"Haha, you sure know how to talk back, son! But if you know that much to talk shit, then that must mean you know enough 'bout what's going on with this country to recognize the fact that this country's dying. Without a fresh wave 'a kids like you stepping up to the plate feeling like they got the power to rebuild this world up again to the point where it was like what it was before them nukes dropped on everyone's heads, America for sure's going down the drain. We gotta take that risk to put our hopes in you, not 'cause we're fucking around, but 'cause we ain't got any other choice." Major Lester coughs several times, clearing his throat. "My apologies, son, I've found myself rambling on more and more as I get older. Old age is a bitch, I'll tell you."
Damon rolls his eyes for the fortieth time today. "Well...I got this other dude with me who shows me that every damn day."
"Haha, then you already know that too! Anyway, after all this meaningless banter, I got something for you to deliver to whoever's the Prime Minister on the other side. Comes from the President himself." Major Lester pulls out a small, plain envelope that is tightly sealed from his pocket and hands it to Damon, who takes it. "Now, Mr. President's told me to give you specific instructions not to open that and read its contents. The Prime Minister knows that, too, and he's expecting this letter, so if you go ahead and open it and stuff, he'll know when you give it to him."
"So I'm supposed to give this to Prime Minister Holmwood," Damon repeats.
"That's an affirmative."
Damon looks at the letter keenly before lowering it to look back at the Major.
"A'ight, anything else?"
"Nothing else. Make America proud, son."
Damon narrows his eyes at the Major.
"'America' killed my parents, and yet here I am goin' off 'n fightin' for it," Damon hisses at Major Lester. "All 'a you can jus' go straight to fuckin' hell."
Damon turns his back on the officer with the beret and steps into the passenger hold as the ramp is automatically raised after him. He pauses momentarily to look at everyone in the passenger hold before sitting down next to Sanford.
"And why the fuck do I gotta sit with you?" Damon mutters resentfully.
"Ain't like ya got a choice now, does it?" Sanford smirks. "So? What'd Major Lester want with ya?"
"Gave me a letter. From his truly, Mr. Fuckin' President, to the Prime Minister over there. Dunno what it's about, but it's fuckin' suspect as fuck. Part 'a me jus' wants ta say fuck it 'n open it. Screw the Prime Minister."
"Yeah, I'd imagine. While I can't tell ya what Blackwood's plannin', I know he's a schemin' motherfucker."
"Yeah, if you'd'a told me that a lot sooner, that woulda been nice, ya fucker."
"Well, now ya know, so stop yer bitchin'. Was the letter all he was talkin' 'bout? Seemed like he was talkin' 'bout somethin' else with'cha."
Damon's eyes darken. "Fucker told me to 'go make America proud'. Makes me wanna fuckin' put a DMR round through the middle 'a his eyes."
Sanford snorts. "I don't blame ya."
Chuck peeks into the passenger hold from the cockpit. "We leaving now! Everyone put seat belts!"
The C-130 begins to move, and the pilot begins to taxi the C-130 properly in place on the runway for takeoff. Some of the destroyers, especially the Akatsuki-Class ones, are giddy with excitement, looking out the windows if they can, highly anticipating another chance to be able to fly. Damon lowers his microphone piece.
"Everyone, listen up. It's gonna be about an eight hour flight over there, and we're gonna end up gettin' there smack in the middle 'a the night. I dunno if we're gonna hafta be down there fightin' the moment we land, so I want everyone to at least try 'n get some sleep while we're flyin' over there, a'ight?"
Damon hears a chorus of "Yes, sir!" sink into his ears.
"Um, Commander..." Damon recognizes the timid voice of Ushio in his headset. "Are you sure...er, will you really be fighting with us?"
"Yeah, I will."
"W-What if...what if something bad happens...?"
"Then you know what? It's gonna suck big time."
The C-130's engines spin up rapidly, and it begins to gain speed and accelerate towards the other end of the runway. Some of the ship girls squeal as the aircraft tips its nose upwards into the sky, and the C-130 rumbles off the runway of Chatham Naval Air Station. Banking northeast-bound for London, the C-130 begins its transatlantic journey, and Damon pulls out his knife handle and flicks out the karambit blade one last time. Kagerou, Shiranui, Imuya, and Iku, the shipgirls sitting closest to him, glance at him staring at his knife blade.
"Commander?" Imuya asks. "Is...are you alright? You're...you're staring at your knife..."
Damon flicks his karambit blade up and pockets his knife handle, closing his eyes and resting his head against the uncomfortable metal wall behind him.
"I'll answer that once I wake up," Damon mumbles. He knows that this would be the most uncomfortable sleep he would have in a long time.