Hello there, my name is 4RG4D3G4 and i welcome you to my first story, one that hopefully will pass the phase of oneshot. Anyway, this story was partially inspired by "Ghost of Razgriz" by AceofSpades44. That, and i saw almost (one if you count Kancolle) none of COD x Kantai Collection.
So i was like "What if" and so i searched any ship in COD universe that i saw fit to be isekaied. That ship being USS Liberator from COD:Ghost, an underrated ship from an underrated franchise.
And thus, this story is born.
They did it...
They fucking did it...
That was the only thought her mind can think in this dark and endless void of limbo. The void was just...that, void, nothing more nothing less. No more the sound of waves crashing down her hull, no gentle breeze of the ocean wind, nor the sensation of battle. She felt nothing, heard nothing and saw nothing.
Of course it is...
Other people -well, she count herself as one- might gone in a panic frenzy just now. She didn't. Instead, she felt at peace. Why? Because she earned it, damnit. Earned it by becoming the sole reason her enemy can't touch her coasts, fighting bullets and missiles for an entire decade. Earned it by becoming the stepping stone of the biggest operation of the entire war, barely holding on so that her transports can reach into the belly of the beast itself. Earned it by becoming so much a nuisance, her enemy resort on destroying her with a weapon equivalent of a nuke.
She was content. She did her duty, sacrificing for it even. And down fighting so it succeed. Oh, she knew it. She knew that her boys, both on the ground and the sky, will succeed on their mission. Without. A. Doubt.
And yet, something was calling her. No, someone was calling her. Almost like a plea
Calling her for protection. Just like what she did for the past decade.
Her reactors lived once again. Her systems activating themself in response. Her catapults begging to be used.
She was needed, and thus USS Liberator will stand once more.
[]—[]—[]—[]
The first thing that greet her is the brightness of the sun, scorching down on the waters. The wind flow passing her body, strong enough to move a sailboat. The feeling was so sudden that she forgot one key aspect.
Wait a minute... MY body!?
She looked down to herself -and wow was that the strangest thing she did- and found herself looking at something she didn't expect to see today. She had legs. Covered in ankle high black combat boots that stood on water as well as dark blue trouser akin to a carrier crew. Wrapped around her newly discovered torso –and sizeable breast-, she found a US marine uniform -of all thing- with the same color as her trouser. The rank insignias on her shoulders denoted the rank of Captain. Her back length brown hair had found themself tied into a braid that nestled down her back, away from the ocean winds.
On her back sat most of her superstructure and aviation facilities. Her radar was scanning the skies for any threat. Elevators and catapults ready for any launch operation on the flight deck. Speaking of, it seems like her bussines end of her operations was split into two pieces. On the left side was the forward part of the deck, which held her two forward catapults and jet blast deflectors. The entire assembly was attached to a mechanical arm that attached it to the rest of the superstructure. A single trigger assembly allowed her to grab it and raise the platform up to shoulder height. As she did so, the catapults began steaming as they waited for action.
On her right side, acting like a singular tower shield was the rest of the deck. There was no handle for her to grab to help raise it. Instead, the much more robust mechanical arm began to whir as it places the deck by itself into position near her shoulders. At the end of her deck were two more catapults when she needed to throw more of her planes to the fray, in short amount of times. Behind them she saw three arrestor wires lashed out across her deck waiting to bring her flyers home. Hanging off the sides of the flight deck was her various amount of armaments from CIWS to Sea Sparrow.
She turned her attention back to the superstructure, and to the elevator that led to her hangar that hung around her hips. Two on the left and two on the right. Now it made sense as to why her rear flight deck was controlled by a robotic setup. It freed her hands to do other things.
But even with all of this sudden changes to her, one thing still bothers her. Why the hell she only seeing half of her Field of Vision? Naturally, she began rummaging her eyes for any clue, with the answer was an eyepatch located in her left eye. But why?
'LOKI, remember?'Ah yes...She really need something to occupied her mind from all of this-
'Check your left breast pocket' Said something...no, someone from inside her head. Shrugging her mind from that, she check her left pocket, only to find a pack of cigarettes and a zippo lighter. Shrugging –again- the thought on how these things was in her possesion, she grabs one of the stick and placing it in her mouth, before lighting said stick with the zippo lighter and inhaling the flavor inside her lungs – again, weird thought- before exhaling it out. The result were soothing her in way just like her captain used to do when he was stressed.
"That's the stuff.." She muttered to herself. Before surprised on her own voice and how...texan it was.
But enough of that, focus on the task ahead now.
And so she ran a quick inventory of personnel and aircrafts...okaay, so there were little people that can only say "Hey" (yet still understandable, maybe they're the one who helped her find the cigs) living inside of her, nothing weird at all...and the result were split into two. Good news and Bad news.
Good news is that she still retain much of her original inventory. That includes 35 planes/5 squadrons of F/A-18E Super Hornets, 3 EA-18G Growlers, 2 V-22 Ospreys, 4 SH-60 Seahawk and 2 MI-24 Hind E (From Cold War storage, if you're wondering). As well a little contingent of marines that call herself home. Those were enough to conduct a small version of the Invasion of Caracas.
Bad news is she lack the supplies to maintain all of it. Sure she can sortie a small amount of her forces, but anything bigger than a skirmish is a no. With most of industrial hotspots were either a massive crater or dead cities, the logistic corps was torn on whether to prioritize the Army or the Navy. The answer was clear as daylight.
It was highly dissapointing but far from anything worse, she just need to play smart on using it. But now she need intel to determined where the hell is she, for all she knew she can just be on the Fed own backyard. Luckily, she had something else that could help her get her bearing up. Good ol' GPS. And there is GPS out here, she just need to reconfigure her setting to use it.
So while waiting for her system to reconfigure itself, she decided to put up a squadron for some Combat-Air-Patrol around her. And thus she lowered her elevators, trying to just get the planes out as soon as possible. The moment the elevators were up, she decided to pick one of the Hornets –carefully of course- and inspecting it closer. The thing looks like a toy a child would play. But she knew better. This thing is a very real F/A-18E, just one that is miniaturized, and painted the trusty grey color. On both outer sides of the tail Fins were drawing of a black wolf with a crosshair underneath it. A drawing she knew too well.
Fenrir squadron, her most experienced pilots and quite possibly, in the entire war. These were the ones that stay with her from the invasion of Caracas, all the way to her last stand against the Federation navy. Just the fact that they were here is an assurance to her. It was like an unspoken words of promise was painted across the wings of the small aircraft. 'We will follow your lead, even if it across the pit of hell itself'. But then she ralized that there are words painted just below the canopy lines, only one that she didn't expect to see. 'Yi pee kay yay, motherfucker'...Yep, this was the one...
As of now though, she had a job to do, and that was to get Fenrir up in the air. So she grabbed the handle of her forward flight deck and put the fighter down while she grabbed another Hornet out the elevator. Then she command the robotic arm –weird thought No.3- to get the rear flight deck into position, before placing another pair of Hornets on it. Just as she was done placing the fighter, a chorus of confirmation flow through her head. Signalling the completion of their pre flight checks. As the small fighters engines spun up with a high pitched whine her jet blast deflectors deployed, keeping the rest of the flight deck safe from the jet wash.
She sighted up the horizon as her catapults reached its maximum launch pressure. Her eyes tracked the approximate path her pilots would take as they took off, before finally finishing her smoke. The seas were calm, and she is not bothered unlike most of her launch operation. This will be a walk in the park.
"Fenrir squadron...LAUNCH!" She barked, the planes suddenly firing off to the end of the flight deck(s). They dipped below the top of the deck as the pilots slammed the throttles forward. They soon built enough airspeed to climb up and away, somehow growing two sizes as they pulled up into a steep climb.
She would love to see her planes more but she had more to launch, and so the last three F/A-18 had left her flight deck and joining the flight soon after. The seven planes formed up into a wedge formation and began their CAP in a 4 km radius from her. Already she could see beyond her sight as the squadron radars and recon was feeding information for her CIC to processed. Speaking of, the CIC just informed her that the reconfiguration was finished, just need to wait for the GPS to updating itself.
So after waiting for a minute or two, her digital map had been finally updated. And the result was basicly an ODIN strike right through her mind. She was far from home, 10.000 km far to be exact. Now she was somehow "awakened" just outside the Japanese coast. Atleast she wasn't on the South American coast, God knows what the Federation will do when they spotted a lone carrier just outside their backyard. But there's more, using the same GPS she was looking at the United States, only to find Her bustling with activities instead. There's no dead cities, no giant craters on the ground, no giant walls separating the southern states. None of it. And this news makes her questioning her own mental health.
This shouldn't have been possible. Even if the US had won the war, the recovery will atleast take decades to finish. Yet before she can even wrapped her head around the information, Fenrir squadron just informed her about something.
"Goddamnit, what now!?" She thought, already feeling frustrated. "Can you see i'm cur-" Whatever words that formed on her thought suddenly crumbled the moment she saw...them.
A group of abominations, for the lack of better work, had been spotted by her squadron just south from her posistion. The figures were humanoid, just like her, but their appearances just like something that come straight out of a horror story. They looks like a love child of a human with whatever eldritch horror out there, then give them a rigging –that what her crews refer to her appearance- that comes from a graveyard. Each of their decks was clad in hauntingly dark steel, which itself looked like half-rotten and rusting yet still having that color. Large gaping maws giving an F you to hydrodynamics, the white teeths giving a sharp contrast to the black hulls. Their stacks belched smoke just as black as their paint schemes. And the bad news was that they are gunning for her position.
"Is this the reason why ciggarete was bad for you?" She thought to herself. Almost reggreting for smoking that voodo magic ciggaretes.
Okay, this was not the time to questioning life choices. We've got a job to do!
As if the words were hypnotising her, she began grabbing another squadron of Hornets. This time they were Raven squadron, her Air-to-Surface specialists. Equipped with LRASM(s) and Maverick(s), they make short of any ground target. A perfect squadron for the problem.
Wasting no time, she prepared her catapults for launch operation. Her crews began readying and arming the various defensive weapons she has. And in just 90 seconds, the carrier had brought Raven into the air, while her rigging filled with activities preparring for the clash soon followed.
While all of that happen, Fenrir had somehow being undetected by the fleet, despite they were flying literally on top of them. And thanks to that, she managed to know their fleet composition. 6 destoyers, 3 Battle cruisers, 2 aircraft carriers, and -weirdly enough- 2 Battleship. Yet that's not all, their weapons were also as weird as them. In the place of CIWS and AA missiles, were genuine Flak guns and manual AA cannon. Naval cannons replace auto cannon on their deck. And...is that a fucking flying ball the carrier just launch?...This day is just getting weirder and weirder by the minutes.
Now now, while they might be weird, that doesn't mean they are enemies. They might be some weird sea creature that resides this particular place of the Pacific or some ghosts of past ships. So with some friendly gesture they might won't attack, right?...And so trusting her rational mind, she open up an open channel to the fleet.
"This is USS Liberator of the USN. State yourself and your intention. Over" She stated to the channel. Hoping to get atleast something normal this time.
"Come with us.."...Okay that was weird as fuck. The only thing she can get from that was none, as if someone is trying to gargle while being strangled. Yet she still tried to open a contact to the ship...womens?
"This is USS Liberator. Can you state your last. over?" She tried, but met with static and then silence. And as soon as the channel gone into silence, her radar just informed her of some unknown contacts that will reached her in minutes. It doesn't take a genius to guess what those contacts are. So with the fleet allegience known, she starts commanding her plane for combat. She order Fenrir to intercept mission while Raven was tasked to deal as much damage as possible to the fleet. And the moment they receive their order, they're beelining to their target.
Fenrir for their part were soaring through the air, intended to bring any airborne threat to Liberator down into the seas. It didn't take long before they met the flying balls of what looks like a bomber squadron with escorts. Unfortunately for them, they will not bombing anyone as the Super Hornets starts opening fire. Their AMRAAM makes short work on the enemies, while the 20 mm just shredding the airframe. The Hornets jet engines outmaneuver and outspeed the escorts. The Fenrir just dominate the skies and soon, it end as fast as it started. The only proof that there are enemy aircraft were a collection of debris littering the ocean. With their job done, Liberator task them to support Raven on their mission. An order the pilots quickly obey.
While Fenrir is taking care of the airborne contacts, Raven was lining their sight on the fleet. And the outcome wasn't pretty for them. LRASM and Maverick missiles easily piercing the shipwomens armor, already half of their number were sunk. The fleet tried to shot down the ground attack Hornets, but none of the shots were reaching its target. Enemy aircraft launched from the carrier tries to protect the fleet but alas, their airframes were powerles against the 20 mm. To make it worse, Fenrir were also starts to pour their remaining ammunition to any planes and ships alike the moment they are arrived.
In the end, the fleet were reduced into nothing more than scrap metals. Excess oil burning the water while the smell of gunpowder and death filled the air above them. This was the sight that greet Liberator the moment she enter the "killing field", as her pilots called. Speaking of, Raven was already landed and stored in while Fenrir followed suit for rearming, ready for more action. Unfortunately, this whole battle had reducing her already straining supply. That, and she was sure this will not be the last time she will seeing these shipwomen.
"That's the only choice, isn't it?" She muttered to herself. Already knowing what is the next course of action.
'Unfortunately, yes' Her crew...No, her Captain told her. Despite the fact that she knew it already.
"It's a rhetorical question, sir" She retorted. Now, with no other choices. Her engines starts running and west she goes.
Destination: Japan.
And that's it for this current instalment, so what do you think?
Please left a comment, critics and suggestion for me if you can and maybe i will tried to make this into a full blown story.
But until then, see ya...