The Legends Still Live On

Bogen Siebundzwanzig-komma-ein: Extras Neun und Zehn

Kapitel Zwanzig: Sorfältige Überlegung

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Aboard the HMS Ark Royal was about everything one could expect out of Britain. Those aspects included a lack of dentists, high amounts of utterly ridiculous and non-tasty food, the biggest gossips on the face of the planet, and such a deluded sense of superiority and haughtiness it would make one want to kill themselves rather than listen to someone speaking about what puts the 'Great' in Great Britain.

Oh, and of course there was tea, and with that, tea time. Everything aboard the Ark Royal came to a stop for tea time.

And it was during tea time where two of St Gloriana's lesser-known Panzerkraft team members were passing through the cafeteria. Both Rukuriri and Nilgiri were not particularly well known for their exploits as tankers of the aristocratic British school, but they still had the capacity to perform important roles when called upon. Both normally commanded Matilda IIs, though Nilgiri at times took command of a Cromwell instead when the situation called for it.

The two of them were simply passing through until they were no longer simply passing through thanks to Rukuriri's attention being drawn to one of the tables, leading to both of them coming to a stop. "Oh, hey look!" she gestured to the table for Nilgiri. "Isn't that the Sir Douglas over yonder?"

The glasses-wearing young Brit briefly adjusted her spectacles to see more clearly. "Blimey, you're right," she observed for herself.

Douglas was in the cafeteria sitting all by his lonesome at one of the tables, a cup of tea before him, likely empty judging by his lack of reaching for it every few seconds.

"I wonder what he's thinking about…" Rukuriri expressed curiosity, having noticed how the Scotsman was seemingly in deep thought over something.

It was times like these that Douglas truly appreciated the value of tea time, as with tea time set up as it was, he could simply go off somewhere – away from his idiotic comrades, preferably – and nobody would question it. Tea time was when everything stopped, so there was nothing expected of him during that time span, meaning he could use the time to unwind and release some tension. There was only so much absurdity he could handle in a single stint.

'It's an absolute chore being around little spitfire number one and little spitfire number two. Impossible to ever keep them on a leash what with how overflowing with energy they are,' the blonde Scottish young'un thought idly. 'Then there's the typhoon of a captain who goes from one fancy to another in such flippant manners. And lastly there's the gunner that's an absolute tempest, what with how she seems to deliberately try and push my buttons as of late. I still don't know as to why…'

Douglas stopped and took a moment to run those thoughts through his head again. Referring to the people who ticked him so in a poetic manner was honestly ridiculous now that he thought back on it. Nobody would ever understand what he was referring to in those words, so he mentally explained himself, just to set things straight.

The little spitfires he was referring to were Rosehip and Oliver, both of which had an absolutely astronomical level of energy within their young bodies. Douglas dismissed that particular trait of theirs as being inherent to the Welsh, but he digressed.

The typhoon was Darjeeling, and he thought the likening appropriate if only because of the Englishwoman's rather hard-to-predict personality. One minute she was reciting famous quotes while completely relaxed and calm, and the very next she would do something outlandish like dress up in a maid uniform and act as such, often with overenthusiasm.

And lastly, there was the tempest: Assam. The Scotsman knew not what had gotten into her, but for whatever reason, she had started deliberately trolling him and just in general pushing his buttons, just to get a rise out of him. And the worst part of it was how she would always devilishly smirk afterwards, which just drove him up the wall.

Another tidbit about his thoughts that made him stop for a second was the specific nouns he had used to relate to each of their traits. He had used the term 'spitfire' to refer to both Rosehip and Oliver, the term 'typhoon' to refer to Darjeeling, and the term 'tempest' to refer to Assam. He found it ironic that all of those nouns were also the names of very prominent British World War Two era fighters: the Supermarine Spitfire, the Hawker Typhoon, and the Hawker Tempest, all of which St Gloriana's Jägermeistern team possessed.

With regards to naming conventions, it was mainly a British and Commonwealth thing to officially name aircraft using actual names rather than alphanumeric designations as was common in every other country. Each of the nations typically also added some nicknames to their own fighters, but these were never official with the exception of the Americans, who added the chosen nickname onto the end of their standard alphanumeric designation. But the British and the Commonwealth were unique in using an actual name for the base designation of an aircraft, a practice which has survived to the present day in Britain and most former Commonwealth countries.

Douglas soon felt really smug about his poetry upon further review of it. Perhaps he could become a poet by trade. Either way, he grew a somewhat smug grin as he huffed once in amusement.

This action was greatly misinterpreted by the two girls observing him. "Oh, he smiled!" Rukuriri sort-of fan-girled.

"He must've come up with an amazing new strategy!" Nilgiri guessed with giddiness. It was a very wrong guess, but Douglas often generated a lot of hype among the girls for how he was basically Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, except for the fact he was blonde. So it was somewhat understandable for some of those fan-girls to think a little too positively of him.

Almost immediately after, the two saw Assam casually strut over and plop herself beside Douglas. "So, what's my favorite Scotsman brooding about now?" she chose to make some light conversation.

"Oh for fuck's sake, I was doing just fine until you sat yourself down next to me!" the Scotsman started shaking his head, flinging his hands a bit as he began ranting. "Can't you just bugger off?!" He pointed downwards aggressively to illustrate his displeasure. "I can never stop being pissed as long as you're still fucking here!" He started shaking his head and fist together due to how full of rage he was with her presence.

Assam merely smirked that little devilish smirk in response. "Ah, you remind me so much of Schwarzwaldspitze's President right now," she commented as if she was talking about the weather, yet fully aware that she was grating on the Scotsman's nerves.

"I'm nothing like that ranting, table-thumping failure!" Douglas retorted, with one of his hands heavily smacking the table twice at 'table-thumping.'

Assam's smirk turned to a satisfied smirk as she tilted her head up slightly, as her point was just proven after the Scotsman thumped the table like Schwarzwaldspitze's President did at times during his many rants. Douglas noticed and immediately felt embarrassed at proving her point so readily.

'Damn that tempest…' he half-heartedly cursed her in his mind.

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Part of Projekt Jägermeistern.

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The author doesn't claim to own "Girls und Panzer" or any other references made. "Girls und Panzer" belongs to Actas. Any references made belong to their respective owners.

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