He was working with a Monster.
The idea was insane, perhaps dangerously so, which is why he didn't dare share it with his coworkers. However, he couldn't think of anything else the white-haired girl could be. She clearly wasn't human, considering her strength and endurance, leaving two reasonable options: Shipgirl, or abyssal.
"Here." The abyssal prompted, handing Alton a pair of steel clamps. The 'clamps,' steel bars bent into a hook at one end, didn't look like one at all, but their unorthodox form was required to compress the formwork in all directions. It took a titanic effort to keep his hands steady as he accepted the components. His thoughts still focused on his coworker, Alton placed one of the clamps lengthwise against the side of an upright panel, allowing it to rest on two of the more traditional-looking corner clamps holding the formwork together.
When you factored everything else about the new girl in, however, the possibility of 'Elizabeth' just being some shipgirl got lower and lower. Why would a shipgirl make up a weird story about living on a cult-controlled island, instead of just saying they came from Brooklyn, Newport, or anywhere they'd been built or stationed in? How had she never had soda before? Finally, why would they be so… ignorant in their food choices? You'd think a shipgirl would at least ask someone back at base for lunch ideas, instead of just bringing random foods.
The second clamp rested on another corner clamp, the hook at the end wrapping around the first steel bar at a right angle. The pair hooked into the two his impostor coworker had placed on her side of the formwork, encompassing the panels in a ring of steel.
It seemed like Elizabeth was just… improvising. Poorly. As far as Alton could recon that only pointed to one thing: The only difference between the monsters who'd destroyed his home and the woman helping him assemble the pillar's formwork, was in how they acted.
Removing a pair of wedges from his pockets, he slotted them into holes notched into the clamps. A few pounds from a hammer and the wedges were pressing the clamps against the formwork, holding the future column's shell together.
It was terrifying, so much that Alton almost called in sick so he could start looking for a different job, but in the end he decided against it. He may be within spitting distance of an eldritch creature who could pulp him and everyone here with a thought, but since he was the only one who actually knew this, he needed to stick around until he could get some real evidence.
Until that happened, however, another question lingered in his mind, refusing to dissipate despite his knowledge that he would never get an answer:
Why was she here?
Was she a spy? Alton was no strategist, but if she really was the ship from the Kalouch video, aircraft carriers seemed like the worst possible choice for espionage work. Perhaps she was part of a larger operation to sneak into the continental US and attack Everett from land, but if that was true, why was she working here instead of biding her time in Washington's rugged wilderness?
With the four steel rods now snugly fitting against the frame, Alton and Elizabeth were safe to remove the four corner clamps.
"So…" The abyssal hesitantly spoke up, her voice trailing off for a moment. "Alton?"
Looking up from the corner clamp he was unfastening, Alton found Elizabeth looking directly at him. Now that he was sure what she really was, this should have been terrifying, but the part of him that instinctually read her expression helped him stay calm. That stupid part of his brain, the one that hadn't evolved to deal with abyssals, looked at her wide eyes, loose expression, and raised eyebrows, and refused to interpet her as a threat.
"...Yes?" He asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
"You're, uh, family." She started, redirecting her attention to a corner clamp as she re-attached it higher on the formwork. "Did they all make it out?"
Alton froze.
It wasn't the question that gave him pause. Not many in his position could say this, but his family was fine. Thinking of them didn't remind him of those dark months in Oahu's mountains: It reminded him of moving back in here, reuniting with Mabel and getting his job here.
No, it was the fact that 'Elizabeth' was asking him this question in the first place that caught him off guard. Why would an abyssal care? Unless she was a startlingly good actor, the look on her face seemed sincere. Was she just curious?
"Yeah, they did." Alton finally replied, focusing back on his work. "In my family, I've gotten the worst of this war."
His parents were still in extreme danger since they refused to leave the big island, but they'd gotten out of Oahu safely, His sister had moved to Austin years before the war started, avoiding any risk of an abyssal encounter. His in-laws had always lived around here, which was why Mabel had fled here in the first place.
"That's good to know," the abyssal replied. She suddenly stiffened, looking back up at Alton in alarm. "I mean- about your family."
Alton snorted, feigning amusement. If anyone else had said that, it would have been a given.
"I understood." He reassured, accepting another pair of clamps from the abyssal. Come to think of it, she either had hundreds of those thin black gloves, or they were a part of her abyssal clothing. They were black, after all, and remarkably undamaged for work gloves.
That was only confirming what he already knew, but while it was better evidence then most of what he and brought him back to his current question: why would she ask?
Well, if he phrased it correctly, perhaps he could get some information without arousing suspicion. As he grabbed his hammer and fished another pair of wedges out of his pocket, he tried to think of the perfect question.
What has you thinking about that?
No, too blunt. She might assume Alton was trying to be confrontational, when Alton had already 'confronted' far more abyssals then he'd ever wanted.
"Is your Family on your mind?" He finally spoke up, not daring to look at his coworker.
There was a moment of pause as both workers' hammers slammed against the metal wedges, the dual cacophony making any speech impossible.
"...Yeah." Once the noise had died down, she replied. "My mom might still be alive, but everyone else I knew…"
She paused, absently grasping at her pockets before removing a disposable water bottle and taking a drink. Alton fished his own water bottle out of his pocket, but didn't drink, instead focusing on the abyssal's body language.
"Anyways," she sighed, pocketing the bottle, "that was the only family I ever saw. Just… wondering what everyone else's is like."
Alton was still pretty sure the dead family story was just that, a story, but given how she delivered that line, he was no longer entirely sure. Then again, her face was somewhat hidden as she focused on undoing a corner clamp.
The two continued to work in silence, leaving Alton alone with the possibility. Sure, abyssals were anything but rational, but loosing every other member of their little murder band would shake one up, wouldn't it?
...Ah, what the hell. Let's see how she reacts to this.
"My parents are stubborn bastards." He started, trying to keep his eye on the imposter. "They're still living on the big island, I think, ready to move back to Oahu the moment the shooting stops."
"Hawaii's big island?" The abyssal questioned, looking away from her corner clamp she was setting.
"Yeah." He confirmed, pausing from his own work to look back at Elizabeth. "Crazy, right?"
She nodded intently, which Alton wasn't entirely sure what to think about. His sappy family story wasn't that interesting.
"Anyways, it was that stubbornness that made me the man I am today..."
He wasn't really exposing himself to the abyssal, at least not seriously. The personal information wasn't of any real strategic value, and it wasn't special compared to anyone else. If anything, forcing himself to act nonchalant about the monster he was working with might be good for him.
...If she never got violent, of course. Getting a black-gloved hand driven through his ribcage was still a very real possibility.
As they completed the rest of the formwork, Alton allowed himself to drone on a bit about his childhood. Between talking about getting an early job as a lifeguard and discussing how he'd sneak away from his parents to go surfing, he made sure to pay special attention to how nice living in Oahu had been. It was a very petty version of revenge, especially since the abyssal probably didn't have a conscience to stab at, but if she did, he'd be giving her something to think about.
...And if she didn't?
Well, the solution to that was still in the mail. Abel had argued against the purchase, but to Alton? It would be five hundred dollars well spent, especially if it proved him wrong.
"Here you go."
The lady manning the food truck leaned forwards, handing Trinitite a paper tray laden with her well-earned meal. The abyssal made sure to give her a thankful smile as she accepted the meal, but the human was busy with everyone else swarming the truck, so the Wo-class wasn't sure she'd been noticed.
She didn't mind that, of course. The food truck was struggling to work through the line that had formed around it. She'd given them money; that was probably good enough.
After scaling Building Two's temporary set of stairs, she turned her attention to the contents of the paper tray she was carrying.
So… this was how you ate a hamburger.
In many ways, it was similar to the sandwiches she'd seen. The most obvious difference, of course, was the shape of the bread, and perhaps the meat. She hadn't inspected the sandwiches she'd pilfered from the Fred Meyers yet, so she wasn't sure.
Finding a seat near Alton and the rest of the crew, Trinitite plopped herself down, resting the paper tray on her legs. All of her coworkers seemed to be more interested in their meals than each other, which was fine by her. It let her focus on the hamburger.
The tray didn't just support that, though. Another food, a pile of rigid, narrow strips dominated the rest. They looked a little like bread, but Trinitite was pretty sure her guess was incorrect.
Well, they could wait for later. Eager to see what an expert could do with those still frozen in her meat locker, she carefully picked up the burger and lifted it to her eyes for close inspection. There was some kind of sauce between the upper… thing… of bread, and the leafs that had been that topped the stack of ingredients. Investigating further, she revised that impression: The texture of the sauce was uneven, as if several different types had been mixed together to create a unique blend of flavors.
Deep, she hardly knew how two or three individual sauces tasted! How was she going to reverse-engineer a combination of three or more of them!
...By asking the library, maybe? She had her crew add 'What sauces go on a hamburger' to her growing Research list, underlining it to ensure she got to that before burning through the rest of her hamburgers.
Huh, apparently she'd also underlined 'How rare are Nuclear Bombs,' then forgot about it. That was… pretty stupid of her, considering how important that information was. Next Library trip, she needed to investigate that before looking into the sauce issue. As serious as that mistake was, however, there wasn't anything she could do about it now, so she returned her attention to the hamburger.
The leaves were a bit confusing. She'd grabbed bundles of them during her raid on Fred Meyers, and they seemed a major part of 'salad mixes,' but just the concept of eating leaves didn't sit right with her. A plant's fruit she could understand, and it seemed like the brilliant red slice was one of those, but these dry, flimsy leaves? Maybe she'd be proven wrong once she'd tried it, but she was skeptical.
After that and the slices of what she assumed was a fruit, a yellowy substance coated the top of the hamburger, cradling two thin slabs of… something else. It might have been a meat at one point, but the blackened flesh was so charred Trinitite had no chance of identifying it. At least the hamburgers were thick enough to retain some juiciness after you'd burned the outside. Even though it didn't look great on it's own, Trinitite doubted the additional meat would make the hamburger worse.
The yellowy substance was a complete mystery to her. Judging by how it partially slumped over the hamburger, the overly-cooked meat above it sinking into the substance, it had definitely been melted by the heat used to cook the hamburger. If she had any of this in her hold, she'd probably have trouble recognizing it.
This was about everything she could learn from looking at it, so after squeezing it slightly to ensure it fit into her mouth, the Wo-class finally took a bite. Razor-sharp teeth slid through the bread, sinking into the meat and releasing the juices trapped inside. They mingled with the bread and the sauces, flavors combining and disappearing in an ever-changing cyclone of taste. With a satisfying crunch, the leaf snapped, giving Trinitite an answer as to why it existed in the first place. The slice of fruit fell with the leaf, its sour-sweet juices gushing out to mingle with those of the hamburger as the burnt strips of meat broke off. The burnt meat had clearly been deliberately flavored, kind of like the Jerky she'd had before, but made to complement the other meat, instead of overpowering it.
Her eyes slid closed as she started to chew, a deep, rich flavor she didn't recognize complementing emerging from the ever-changing orchestra of taste. Orchestra… yes, that seemed like a good word for it. The specifics were a mystery to her, but the way the flavors supported and complemented each other reminded her of the music she'd sometimes relax to. Alone, it was just noise or taste. Here? It was a feeling.
This was no longer a simple issue of logistics. If she could figure out this cooking thing, she could be even more useful to her princess! There was no guarantee that she'd be able to show off these skills to her former fleetmates. Some had no doubt already emerged lashed to another princess, and others would probably never return at all, but a less tactical skill like this could be invaluable for Jellyfish if Trinitite somehow managed to get her back.
Swallowing satisfactorily, Trinitite eagerly took another bite, enjoying the same tapestry of flavors. While she chewed, though, her thoughts drifted to other's fleets.
No, not fleets. Families.
She hadn't realized just how old Alton was. He hadn't given an exact age, but when he talked about turning 18 like Trinitite talked of her days as a green Wo who couldn't even steam properly, the abyssal had to pause.
He'd spent years on Oahu, leaving his home far less often than Trinitite did from Bikini. Leaving her own island had been hard, and she'd only existed for two years!
A lot of the stories he talked about flew over her deck, partially because she had no idea what things like surfing were, but mostly because she didn't know Oahu at all. She'd never been there, after all. She took another bite of hamburger, the wonderfully complex taste a fresh comfort. On the bright side, that meant she could listen to Alton's stories without the knowledge that she'd played a part in tearing their lives apart. Beyond helping to prevent The Fire from annihilating her, Her Princess's passiveness had some hidden upsides.
She swallowed, but an uncomfortable thought prevented the Wo-class from taking another bite from the hamburger.
...She had protected convoys running to the Aircraft Carrier Princess, hadn't she? Without those, Hawaii probably would still be in human hands, much to the frustration of most princesses she knew. Not just that, but plenty of other offensives throughout the pacific had succeeded due to her efforts. Each successful convoy might have meant more humans, humans with names, families, and jobs that she'd never know about, getting killed or forced to flee. They'd be lost, separated from their own Families, and in logistical straits as desperate as hers were now.
She'd had to do those, though! Even her mother hadn't wanted to help in The Abyss's war against humanity! They needed to help those convoys if they didn't all want to starve to death in Bikini. Sure, contributions to logistics were bad, but not nearly as bad as cruising up to human cities and dropping bombs into apartments, right?
If she asked the humans and shipgirls who'd attacked Bikini that question, or that one Navy officer with the megaphone, she doubted they'd agree.
She took another bite of the hamburger, but the concoction of flavors didn't taste quite so good, this time.