Stewart pushed her way through the growing crowd, a combination of superior horsepower and her angry glares causing the crowd of mixed military personnel to part before her. Her gaze fixated down the hallway, she hardly noticed that many of the people she haphazardly brushed aside held significantly more rank than her.
As she broke her way to the edge of the crowd, that familiar silhouette of two Fletcher class destroyers stood out among the gaggle of mixed camouflage patterns and dress uniforms.
"Hailey. Franks." Stewart called out tersely, staring down the pair of assembled destroyer girls.
Hailey jumped slightly at the expression the Clemson directed her way. "We couldn't stop her." The Fletcher pleaded. "We were talking and then suddenly she was heading out at flank speed. We didn't even see the limey cruiser until Oregon had tackled her through the wall."
"Did she kill anyone?" Franks pleaded in a loud whisper, a terrified expression on the destroyer's face "Please tell me she didn't kill anyone."
Stewart let out a quiet sigh and held up a hand to silence the pair. "I need to know where she is."
Franks look pale and quietly pointed down the hall. "Iowa's room." The Fletcher muttered quietly.
Stewart said nothing, pinwheeling on one foot and marchering herself quickly towards the dorms, relying on the increasing number of armed marines headed towards the commotion to part for her rather than allowing them to delay her advance.
Pivoting down the hallways and passing mostly empty doorways she stopped by a familiar door, and knocked right below the label that read "USS IOWA BATTLESHIP NO. 4."
Allowing for a pregnant pause and with no answer forthcoming, the destroyer pushed her way into the room. She was greated by a scene of absolute chaos. The bedroom the pre-dreadnoughts shared was currently a disaster. While all of Iowa's possessions were unharmed, the empty beds and Oregon's sleep area had been utterly demolished. Wood and feathers were spread near evenly in a pattern that respectfully avoided the younger battleship's living space. The perpetrator of the anger driven although well directed rampage remained in the room, sitting on a deeply cracked chair and gazing out the window over the ocean view, her expression near blank as her eyes looked out on the horizon.
Stewart sighed and stepped past the threshold, dodging the larger bits of damaged furniture and thrown about refuse. Finally finding solid ground near enough to the battleship, the took position off of Oregon's left shoulder. Drawing a flask from her left breast pocket, the destroyer surveyed the older ship intently before drawing a deep drink and offering the flask to the battleship.
Oregon, deep in her thoughts, still refused the acknowledge the destroyer's presence.
Stewart spared a glance out the window. Beyond the long Sandy beaches and bright blue skies the distant form of a Japanese patrol group returning could be seen, though the exact members of the group couldn't be identified. The destroyer took another drink.
"They almost fooled me again." Oregon offered, the words coming out in a quiet and melancholy tone instead of the bitter anger the younger girl expected. "The Navy, I mean- I saw Iowa so confident and happy and almost convinced myself it'd be different this time."
Stewart passed the flask, this time Oregon took it without acknowledgement, upending the contents and returning an empty container.
"It did feel good to finally get a few hits in on that bitch though." Oregon muttered a slight grin forming beneath the layers of resignation, "she wasn't as tough as they told us she was."
"Few of us are." The destroyer reflected idly, returning her flask to coat pocket, not bothering to grant eye contact to the battleship. "You certainly aren't."
Oregon looked almost surprised at the comment. "I'm a god damn battleship, "she announced, venom taking root in her voice. "Me and my sister rewrote the book on naval warfare in the blood of the Spanish Navy."
"Sure. But that was nearly a century and a half ago and with a body of steel and iron." Stewart muttered, still focused on the outdoor scene. "As far as I'm concerned you're no different than your sister, more concerned with moping about and trying to raise pity than actually proving yourselves."
Oregon's fist clenched audibly and seemed to tremble slightly with the force of contracting muscles. "Don't you dare speak ill of my sister." Oregon spat venomously.
Stewart said nothing, electing to cross her arms defiantly and stare down the battleship. Her fairy crew, steely as her, calmly passed the call to battle stations in the shadow of Oregon's fury.
"Do you know how hard she fought for this country? How hard we all fought?! We bled and killed for what- to have girls like that bitch dreadnought to come in here and sweep up the glory and toss us into the scrap heap."
The destroyer remained immobile.
"Do you have any idea what that's like?" Oregon yelled with fury, a glob of angry spittle landing seemingly unnoticed on Stewart's cheek *Any idea what it's like to have it happen twice no less?" she added, a faint tone of hurt underpinning her anger.
Stewart snorted. "This is what I'm talking about," the destroyer muttered with quiet and cold words, "Not all of us got a fresh and eager reception on our return. Not all of us were handed a star role in the fucking show right at day one and you and Iowa just use that to bemoan and bitch about being replaced. if you're not willing to take that opportunity for yourself, maybe you should make focus on keeping your sister useful enough that the Navy won't drag outside Pearl and shoot her full of holes just to see what happens."
For a brief few seconds the room was quiet. It looked as though Oregon's fury was soon to reach a violent crescendo and the look of furious defiance that Stewart offered in exchange seemed no less likely to embrace conflict. After a staredown that seemed to take eons, the pregnant pause began to falter as a resigned sigh and a defeated expression took root on Oregon face. The battlewagon collapsed backwards into her chair with a tired motion, staring lazily at the ground. "You're right." She muttered with defeat. "I know you're right. It's just seeing her- seeing dreadnought-" the waship trailed off. "It's like seeing all my failures and fears all lined up in a neat little row."
Stewart nodded glumly her defiance shaped by the closest thing to sympathy her face could hold. "I know my position here is mostly because I can type and speak Japanese. But I won't stand for you doing stupid stuff like that again. If not for your sake than for Iowa's. If you screw up and become a liability Iowa may well be pulled into whatever consequences mark your actions"
Oregon nodded.
As if summoned, a knock sounded at the door and it swung open lightly to reveal the form of Iowa. In one hand, the battleship held a generic brown paper bag the shape of which offered suspicion that several bottles were hidden inside. In the other hand, she bore an enormous tub of chocolate ice cream. The nervous look she held with the expectation of facing Oregon's fury melted with a visible sag of the shoulders when her older sister greeted her instead with a sad half smile and actual eye contact. The relief fell slightly further into worried confusion upon seeing Stewart.
"Iowa" Stewart greeted with a terse and professional nod.
The battleship narrowed her eyes. "what are you doing here?" she muttered with fraint traces of suspicion bleeding into her words.
Stewart stood up, not sparing a glance for either battleship and instead heading straight out the door. "I was just leaving." she offered tonelessly to Iowa as she passed out the entrance.
Iowa shot a suspicious glare at the destroyer's passing "What did she want." She asked Oregon, "she's not trying to intimidate or scold you is she?"
Oregon smirked slightly, turning back to her sister. "She was simply asking me not to cause any more trouble for myself."
"she's like that," Iowa muttered, slamming her ice cream on her desk, "always trying to get everyone to tow her perfect little line."
"Her reasoning was sound." Oregon offered with a shrug, "she seems like a nice enough girl."
Iowa let out a low grumble as she set the bag down next to he ice cream, doing her best to ignore the sizable damage that Oregon's rampage caused.
"She is a bitch though," Oregon conceded, "she definitely reminds me of more of my senior enlisted than I care to admit."
Iowa laughed, pulling a series of rum bottles out from the paper bag. "I'll drink to that." She muttered before tossing one nonchalantly to her sister, "but at this point I'll drink to just about anything."
"I'll just drink to what your drinking to," Oregon offered with a melancholic half smile before opening the bottle and upending the contents.