During the Siren War, the Azur Lane made a shocking discovery; they were not the first to take the fight to the Sirens. Stumbling across a frozen, mountainous island, the girls found traces of a cataclysmic battle, as well as what appeared to be human/mechanical remains.

These were brought back and, with the power of the wisdom cubes, rebuilt as the Shipboys, ships of more futuristic yet primal origin. After initial clashes wrought of confusion, the Shipboys were reminded of the alien threat that wiped them out, and are determined to use this second chance to protect more than just the man at his side...


Chapter 5: My Brothers Keeper

Fusillade woke with a start, the only sounds coming from the fury of the storm and the industrial park in the Shipboy port. The young man grimaced and rolled over on his bunk placing a careful eye on his brother. It had been three whole days since Cannonade had a seizure. On the one hand, he dared that progress was being made but, on the other, he was due for one soon.

Fusillade watched his brother carefully, noting his breathing. Good, long steady breaths. That's good, at least he hasn't stopped breathing like last week. He sighed and checked his clock. 4:30 in the morning. Moder would be up by now, but Fusillade saw no reason to bother him. His morning coffee and evening cigar were sacred times. Not to be disturbed unless there was a really serious problem. It was only time Moder was able to actually unwind and relax.

Although Fusillade did have his suspicions. He seemed awfully keen to run that errand to Royal Navy a few days ago...

Ah, enough of that. He had his own plate to worry about, between Cannonades worsening condition and his report to give to the Azur Lane Commander. Fusillade listlessly reviewed what he knew. Cmdr. Jacob Rawlson. Born in Seattle, Washington, 1989, graduated top of the class from Annapolis Naval Academy. Studied for two years at the War College in Oslo, Norway. Selected by NATO supreme command to head the consolidated forces against the Sirens, then by the UN as Commander of the Azur Lane Alliance.

Cannonade shifted and snored. Fusillade kept him under eye to make sure he didn't suffocate. Every night Fusillade prayed his brother would get better. But it was a fools errand. Fusillade knew too well that his brother was dying...


Later that morning...

"Yo,bro. Get the fuck up, we're gonna be late." Fusillade kicked the bunk, making Cannonade start as he groggily woke up.

"Laaaaaate," the voice came a dull, hollow monotone. Then his eyes snapped fully open.

Fusillade was a tall, burly young man with sandy hair and deep red eyes. He appeared fairly normal with the exception of the 5 inch gun stapled on to his right arm and four twin-40mm cannons studding his left. 20mm rocket launchers were bolted into his back. His shins were replaced by spring coils giving him and his brother longer stride and powerful jumps.

Cannonade was identical to his brother, with the exception of being brown haired and slightly less muscular. What he lacked in brawn, however, he made up in acrobatic prowess. This he displayed by leaping straight out of his iron bunk and hanging from the light fixture with effortless grace. Gazing down at his brother with a wild light in his eyes, Cannonade found himself suddenly wide awake and full of his usual mischievousness. Or to say in other words, homicidal mania.

"TOP O' THE MORNIN' BRUDDER O MINE!!" He shrieked in a mechanically amplified voice. A pronounced Irish accent flavored his words.

Both Cannonade and Fusillade were unique among the Shipboys. While the rest of them with the exception of a select few had no template on an actual warship, the two brothers, also known as the Carronade Twins, were based off of the Fire Support Ships of Vietnam War vintage.

"yeah, yeah, good morning to you too," Fusillade smiled inspite of himself. Fusillade had few joys in life, being in constant pain from his augments. All shipboys bore some level of pain. Some like Clockwork and Salvo were in daily agony that the mechanical components caused them, but as of now carefully hid this from Lady Hood and Dunkerque.

But Cannonade...Cannonade always made him laugh.

"C'mon bro, we gotta see Dr. Spaz."

"Curses. That bolt brain will be the bloody death o' me yet. You mark me words."

"With any luck." Fusillade snagged Cannonade with a tow-cable and dragged him out the door.

"NOOOO!! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!! DAMN THE ENGLISH AND THEIR NATIONALIZED HEALTH CARE! THEIR FISH AND CHIPS AND THEIR GOD FUCKING DAMNED TASTELESS TEA!!"

Fusillade rolled his eyes. Cannonade's charm only ran so far...

Several sets of eyes watched in interest as Fusillade dragged his tearful brother to Dr. Spaz's office in the industrial district of the port. The boys called it a district. But who are we kidding?

The industrial district WAS the port.

Iron smelters, Steel mills, oil refineries and weapons and munitions factories sprawled across the heavily polluted and ruined island. In the mountains, a massive mining complex quarried tons of copper, iron, tin, gold and silver. The Shipboys were not only brutal fighters but highly industrious craftsmen, forging powerful weapons and distilling millions of barrels of oil for the Azur Lane. Everyone of them worked a designated shift when not on patrol, per Moder's orders.

Naturally, Shipgirls were uncomfortable being at Shipboy Port. Lack of fresh air, very little green and heavy pollution a tourist destination these did not make. But the trade off was a steady stream of resources and weapons shipped reliably and regularly, and the pollution itself relatively manageable, with all but the most toxic of wastes being used as proxy explosives and renewable energy.

Finally they arrived. Dr. Spaz's office looked more like an auto repair shop than a hospital, complete with tool boxes and workbenches lining the walls. The only thing that indicated that this was for medical purposes was the slabs that serves as gurneys and the single reclining examination chair.

Dried blood was splattered everywhere inside, some of it from a recent mission in the Philippines or something like that.

"YO DOC!" Fusillade shouted out, Cannonade trying to crawl away still, "you here?"

"Ja, ja, I'm here, dumkopf," a spindly whirring sounded above Fusillade made him look up. Doktor Spaz glided out of the ceiling, eight legs smoothly carrying his body down to the ground. Four pairs of arms with tools built into them clicked and clacked as they swapped from mechanical hands to drills to hands again. Hundreds of eyes where crammed into his head, giving him a ghastly appearance.

"Here for anaada check up, ja?" The Doktor hissed, pulling cables out of a monitor.

"what else?" Fusillade picked up his squirming brother and threw him into the examination chair. Doktor Spaz instantly wound Cannonade in cables, tying him to the chair.

"Come on, bro," Fusillade spoke pleadingly this time, "I know it blows, but it's just a few seconds to run the diagnostics-"

An animalistic metal scream exploded from Cannonade. Sparks flew from his joints, eyes and mouth, oil starting to leak from his nose and mouth.

Fusillade shook his head.

"I wasn't expecting him to get this bad so quick. He started today sounding like a fucking leprechaun."

"Ja, ze genetic code keeps overlapping and places lapses in the fine neural function of the mind."

Fusillade shook his head, none-plused.

"Ze mind is deleting itself." Doktor said simply.

With that, Doktor plugged a massive cable into a input at the back of Cannonade's skull. The Shipboy instantly went limp, feedback audible from his sagging mouth.

Fusillade hung his head low and gripped his brothers arm. The words he spoke were simple, but filled with desperation and despair.

"How long?"

Doktor Spaz shook his bug like head.

"Years? Months? ...days? Don't know for sure."

Fusillade swore under his breath. It was all going well, then an Observer siren hit him in the head with a scrambler weapon that cause catastrophic brain damage. Cannonade was slowly losing his mind, not only losing his grip on his reality but capacity to take care of himself. Before long, he'll be in a permanent catatonic state. At that point...Fusillade didn't think he would be able to end his brothers suffering.

For now, the effects of the weapon were held at bay by routine diagnostic reassembly, fortifying Cannonades mind and rebuilding neural pathways. But the process was extremely painful and even now, Fusillade noticed the sweat already drenching Cannonade's shirt. Oil and blood were now seeping from his eyes. Before long, Cannonades mind will not be strong enough to handle another reassembly.

Cannonade began to shudder, though still unconscious. The feedback was lapsing into the subconscious.

"Doktor?!" Fusillade asked concerned.

"Almost," Doktor Spaz nodded, turning a dial. Cannonade began to thrash against the restraints before suddenly arching his back as though an electric current was powering through him. With a sudden crackling sound, he went limp.

"Doc?"

Doktor Spaz said nothing, reading a medpad as the results came through.

"Doc?" Fusillade asked more pressingly than before.

The Doktor sighed and began to untie Cannonade.

"DOC!!"

"He's gut, ser gut. Do not shout at me, dumkopf." Doktor Spaz snapped, finishing releasing Cannonade from his chair before slowly removing the diagnostic cable from his head.

Fusillade waited with baited breath as his brother stirred, then woke up.

The real Cannonade.

"Morning bro, hope I didn't keep you too long."

Gone was the Irish accent, the frayed, barely coherent mental mess. The homicidal glint in his eyes still remained, but they were no longer glossed with unfocused insanity, but with some measure of clarity.

"Any chance for breakfast?" Cannonade laughed, shakily getting up from the chair, "goddamn I could eat horse. Or one of those destroyers from Eagle Union; they look tasty."

Fusillade nodded sullenly. We can't just keep pretending this is normal.

"Sure, dude...let's hit the canteen..."


Shipboy Port Tavern...

"ORDER UP!" Came the hollow mechanical voice of Mollusk, the chef of the Port Tavern. Despite being an unusually talented cook, he'd never know how good his own creations were; he didn't have a mouth, just a vocoder with appendages similar to a crabs that stritilated his words.

At the bar, Cannonade and Fusillade munched on their breakfast. Much like Shipgirls, Shipboys required a specialized diet to maintain their health. Unlike Shipgirls, it was more mechanically oriented. Instead of cream, butter, syrup, milk and batter, the boys in the tavern pounded down oil soups, cereal composed of nuts and bolts, anti-freeze coffee, sheet metal toast, and eggs heaped with iron shaving hash browns. That wasn't to say that they couldn't eat the same food as Azur Lane Shipgirls, but it was treated like social occasion more than anything, since little to no nutritional value was obtained. Then there was the ale. The amount of breakfast ale and grog the boys drank was nothing short of disgusting. But being high-functioning alcoholics, it was just an accepted part of life in Shipboy Port. A drunk Shipboy couldn't feel pain. And that made life tolerable.

Fusillade took a long draught from his beer before turning to his brother.

"So what's on your agenda today?"

"Combat practice with Scharnhorst." Cannonade chewed pensively on a piece of waffle with steel chips, before continuing, "she asked for me specifically."

Fusillade smiled.

"She really has taken a shine to you. I'm all for it."

"Ah, stuff it ya fucker. She's only interested in me cuz her sister's interested in my brother."

Fusillade felt himself blush.

"It's not like that-"

Cannonade's arm snaked out and caught Fusillade by the collar. Deftly, he pulled his shirt collar down, revealing a large discolored patch on his neck, roughly the size of a pair of lips.

"uh-huh," Cannonade smirked smugly, "not at all like that."

"Hss, shut up," Fusillade snapped, smacking his brothers hand away and flipping his collar up, "Gniseneau is a respectable woman, and I won't take this slander from you, you bug eyed, gun humping freak."

"Oh, trust me, I can hump more than a gun," Cannonade winked, "and I'm pretty sure she's gonna be begging for it, too."

"So tell me," he pressed, his smug smile still plastered on his face, "as I am going into the weeds and you have intel from behind enemy lines. Anything I need to know? Is it true about Iron blood ladies?"

"About what?"

"they're obsessed with wearing leather undergarments and making you call them 'mommy'?"

"pretty sure that's a specific lady. They're all a bit unique-"

"And they're into chains and whips?"

"they're not that freaky-"

"and they prefer it up the ass."

"well, so do you."

"yeah, you'd know right?"

"To hell with you."

"Oh God," Cannonade cracked his knuckles, his wild eyes blazing, " I'm way ahead of you."

Fusillade's face fell. Just like that, he was reminded...

"FUSILLADE!! CANNONADE!!!" A screech blasted in the tavern, causing everyone to turn around. A squat cyborg barely 4 feet tall full of snark and disappointment glowered in the doorway.

This was shipboy foreman, Strawboss. His vocals magnified to painful levels, audio feed-backing even through other shipboys as he spoke in a deafening voice.

"YOU'RE LATE FOR POSTING! GET YOUR REARS IN GEAR! ESPECIALLY YOU FUSILLADE!! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DEPLOY TO ALHQ HALF AN HOUR AGO!!"

Dust fell from the rafters of the tavern as the Carronade twins calmly rose.

"see you when you get back?" Cannonade smiled, offering a hand.

Fusillade, still lost in his thoughts absentmindedly accepted it.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Whatever you say."


Meanwhile, Azur Lane HQ

The helicopter thundered to a landing at the helipad behind the headquarters office. Commander Jacob Rawlings. Stood ready but stone faced. Javelin, Z23, Gnieseneau, and Prince of Wales stood ready with their leader as the passengers disembarked.

Twenty Special Forces soldiers and one lone woman.

She was slim, with graying brown hair framing her gaunt long face. Grey eyes with massive sleep bags underneath seemingly lifeless suddenly blazing with intensity as she glared at Cmdr. Rawlings. She was dressed in a lab coat over her simple khaki dress pants and white blouse. Her shoes clacked aggressively on the tarmac as she approached.

The four ships present lowered their heads respectfully as they uttered the same greeting.

"Good morning, Mother."

The woman only acknowledged Wales by nodding in her direction before turning to the Commander.

"Your office. Now."

Rawlings shrugged and offered to lead her, but the woman all but shoved him aside and went a head. Rawlings shook his head.

Just how I wanted to spend the morning. Locked in a room with this bitch.

Rawlings, the ships and the soldiers filed into the office after the woman. Passing other Shipgirls, they similarly nodded or bowed to the leader of the procession.

"G'day, mother."

"Guten tag, Mutti."

"Konichiwa, Oka-san."

The woman powered through all of it, not looking to the left or right. She only stopped when she reached Rawlings office.

"wait here." The order was for ships and soldiers alike.

Rawlings unlocked the door and followed the woman inside. He locked the door behind him.

"I take it you are a bit frazzled by something, doc?"

Dr. Natasha Vitali threw a folder onto Rawlings desk, then crossed her arms. Her head cocked to one side, like a terrorbird observing prey.

"What in the blue FUCK is this?"

Rawlings glanced at the folder. It was a report he had filed approximately 4 months ago...right around the time...

"you went to that island," she sputtered, rubbing her temples with her hands as she walked back and forth, "couldn't be content with just turning on the mainframe, you took proprietary properties of the Zenith Corporation and you. Let. The. Girls. To. What?!"

"Well, to be fair," Cmdr Rawlings smirked innocently, "Langley and Akashi were reviving them before I gave permission. At that point, not like I could just kill them again."

"Yeah, you could've. You should have."

Rawlings face darkened.

"You're talking murder."

"I'm talking common sense!" Dr. Vitali shrieked, smashing her fist into his oak desk, "they were prototypes! Unrefined, imperfect products that couldn't hold up to snuff at the end. There is a reason we dumped them on that island. There is a reason we never sent reinforcements when the Sirens attacked. And there is a reason, Commander, that you were expressly ordered to STAY. THE FUCK. AWAY."

"I'm not seeing the issue." Rawlings shook his head, "they help us fight the sirens. That's a net positive in any respect."

"Oh, yeah, the enemy of my enemy BULLSHIT?!" Dr. Vitali was positively spitting in rage, foam flecking her thin perched lips as she seethed, "ask yourself, Rawlings, what happens if the Sirens are destroyed? Do you genuinely see them considering peace as an option? Or is it more likely that they will turn their guns on humanity?!"

"The boys are a rowdy bunch of assholes, but they're not murderers."

"You clearly didn't see what he did to the head nurse."

"she was a sadistic bitch who was injecting neuralythamine into the destroyers."

"And furthermore," Rawlings raised his finger in protest, "All ships of anti-human persuasion were banished. Along with him."

"Irrelevant. They would have died painlessly. He condemned them all to die on that mountain."

Dr. Vitali shifted and hit her nails, nervously now.

"If they EVER find out...Heaven help us all."

Cmdr. Rawlings laughed as he leaned back in his chair. He finally understood.

"You're afraid."

Dr. Vitali glared at the commander with venomous eyes.

"You're afraid of getting caught like a kid in the cookie jar. This isn't about humanity, it's about covering your own ass."

"My work is the only thing keeping the Sirens at bay," she hissed, "I am essential. They were not."

"uh-huh. What about his WIFE?"

Silence dominated the office. Dr Vitali pointed dangerously at Rawlings.

"She left me...no choice..."

"Spare me the horseshit, woman," Rawlings spat, "the mainframe on the island had documents from an encrypted Zenith file. I have the damn receipts. You threatened her to go along and then..."

"I HAD...NO...CHOICE..."

Rawlings leaned forward.

"That's why you don't want them to know. It's him. And I can't blame you really. I've seen the way he looks at her. He's starting to piece the puzzle together and believe me, you don't want to be on the same continent as him when he figures it out."

Terror reflected in Dr. Vitali's eyes, and Cmdr. Rawlings knew he had her pinned.

"Give me a reason not to tell him the truth."

SMACK

Dr. Vitali's hand left a mark on Rawlings face. She breathed heavily as she spoke dangerously.

"don't threaten me, asshole. I am essential, but make no mistake, YOU ARE NOT."


3 hours later, 25 miles from Azur Lane HQ.

Battleship Gnieseneau waited in the sea. She knew he had to be faalong soon.

Just beforeqq she was about to try her radio to try to establish contact, a pair of arms snaked around her and pulled her into awarm embrace.

Gnieseneau squealed in surprise as Fusillade chuckled.

"EEEP!"

"I seem to have the most gorgeous lady in the sea."

"Du absoluter Teufel! Erschreck mich nicht so!"

Gnieseneau was stopped from chiding Fusillade more by a tactical sweet kiss to the lips. Instantly, her eye's gently rolled back into her head.

For a moment, the two stood thus, lost in their moment until the Shipgirl remembered...

"Ah! Herr Fusillade, you must not go to the Headquarters right now."

"I'm not complaining if it means more time with you," the shipboy replied in a husky whisper, but Gnieseneau reluctantly pushed him away.

"Nein, liebling...nein. Commander said to hand me the report, and I will bring it to him."

"w-why?!"

"Commander has had a guest, and now believes they are listening and watching him. He says this is for your safety. And he sent me because-"

"Because I trust you," Fusillade suddenly ducked down and went straight to Gnieseneau's throat.

"AHN! Fuse, w-what are you doing?! Ich bin viel zu empfindlich am hals!"

"My brother found your little memento you left on my neck," he laughed wickedly, "It's time I left you with mine."

"W-wait! Whatever will Scharn think of her sister?!"

But no pleading would dissuade her lover, and a prominent love bruise soon shone on her neck.

"Hmph, I hope your happy. I'm holding you responsible if I lose face in Ironblood..."

Adjusting her glasses, she reached out for Fusillades report, when the radio crackled.

"Fusillade, Fusillade, this is Gasmask," the chemist OC the Shipboy's barked on the radio, "Fusillade, come in. You need to return to port immediately...Cannonade has had another seizure..."


Hour later...

Scharnhorst had found him in the sea, badly contorted. By the time he was returned to port, he was in full throes. Thankfully, Doktor Spaz had flooded his system with neural suppressants.

Fusillade sat by his brother's side now, fighting back the tears. All he wanted was a life where he and his brother could live together. But between the sirens and Cannonade's condition, it seemed more and more likely that Fusillade would have to endure this world alone...

A tear rolled his cheek, in spite of himself.

He became aware of a presence in the room with him. Not Gnieseneau or Scharnhorst. They were waiting outside. Only one other person was allowed in the sickbay recovering room...

"ITS YOUR FUCKING FAULT!" Fusillade exploded, tears suddenly streaming down his face as he shuddered in anger, "We had NO REASON to be in that sector. None! And then you refused to let us evacuate when no one came!! Now my brother is in this mess and godfuckingshit!!"

Fusillade shot up from his chair, and with tremendous force, threw the chair through the concrete wall. An eruption of dust and pebbles showered them.

Beside him, his visitor said nothing. So Fusillade spoke instead.

"Moder...please don't let my brother die."

Silence persisted until his guest stepped forward, and gently, but firmly, placed his hand on Fusillade's shaking shoulder. Instantly he started calming down but his sobs still hitched in his throat.

"As far as I am able," Moder spoke, "I will do whatever I can to help."

The leader nodded to the young man in the bunk in front of them.

"I swore, I'd lose no more. It is a promise I have failed, but it is one I will continually offer."

"Habits die hard, boss."

"Aye," Moder nodded, "They do...they do..."

"I am my brothers keeper," Fusillade said finally, "that's been my promise. This is my responsibility, but...I can't do this alone."

"Brother,"

Fusillade turned to look his leader in the eyes. The soft red glow emanated reassuring warmth.

"You are never alone."


The Next Morning...

Once again, Fusillade, kept an eye on his brother. He should wake him up, but part of him was afraid if the person he woke up would even be his brother.

Trepidation filled the young man as he reached down, and grab hold of his brothers shoulder.

"Yo...yo bro, time to get up."

Cannonade shifted...rolled over...and opened his eyes...

For once, they were clear...


Chapter 5of the Shipboy introductions. I have several I plan to write, but I'll post when I am able.

Another long chapter! This one with LOOOOORE! (Insert MatPat impression here). Here we introduce the Carronade Twins. They will be badass later.

Leave a review if you want, let me know how you like it.