Words could not describe how much Nashville hated Trinitite right now.

Not only had The Abyssal humiliated her off the coast of Washington, not only was she menacing the entire Pacific Northwest, and not only was she pulling her away from her duties as a Light Cruiser, but she also had just forced her to board another damn helicopter!

The Sea Hawk, courtesy of Captain Newman and one of the Burkes anchored at her station, barreled southwest. Thick rain met the aircraft as it threw itself forwards, the barrage of water audible even over the infernal whine of the engine.

A gust of wind caught the helicopter, and the ten-thousand ton cruiser suddenly felt weightless as the aircraft plummeted for an unending moment, before the rotors suddenly caught the air again and Nashville was slammed into her seat. Her teeth clacked together, and while her crew had been braced for rough seas for a while now, Nashville herself had to re-swallow a portion of her dinner.

She knew time was of the essence, but was it really safe to put four shipgirls on a helicopter in this weather? Even Shangri La was looking a little pale!

"Attention to all ships. We've got McCollum Park in sight." The pilot's voice filtered in from her borrowed headset. Despite the nightmarish weather, his voice was unnaturally flat. "Hang on, your torture's almost over."

"We'll be the first on-scene." Murray spoke up, "Remember, we're not professional investigators, so if you see anything that looks like evidence, call one of the local law enforcement or one of The Feds when they arrive. Try not to disturb anything."

Nashville wasn't sure where any of the civilians were staying, but it hadn't been near Smokey Point. They'd be arriving later, cruising in lovely, stable cars.

"Aye," Shangri La acknowledged. The two other ships they'd brought with them had been given a bare-bones briefing on Trinitite back when they'd instituted the policy of having one informed ship with every leave party, but Nashville assumed they were in about the same state she was. "...but I'm not sure anyone else heard you, Lieutenant Commander."

As she spoke, the helicopter started to fall again, but this time there seemed like a modicum of control. On an intellectual level, she knew the conditions were fairly mild compared to, say, a stormy voyage through the north sea, but as she felt the pilots wrestle with wind and rain in their descent, she wasn't sure how anything could fly here.

If the crew chief slid the door open to reveal the colorful land of Oz, the Light Cruiser wouldn't have been surprised in the slightest. There was no way they were going to make a clean landing in this tempest!

Yet, as the clean, bluish beams of headlights started to poke through the seahawk's windows, the aircraft's wheels suddenly met dirt and the shaking came to a long-awaited end.

Despite wanting nothing more than to get something solid under her keel, Nashville took a second to let the world stop spinning. Her internals were still revolting, after all.

"Here."

Nashville looked up as the Murray voice filtered over the intercom, her rangefinders settling on his outstretched hand. In any other circumstance the light cruiser might have been embarrassed, but time was of the essence and she wasn't sure she could stand up on her own.

The spinning got worse and Nashville retched as the Lieutenant Commander hoisted her up, draping her arm over his shoulders in a classic walk assist. Still, as her commanding officer led her off the helicopter and onto the soaked grass of McCollum Park, Nashville managed to hold her dinner in, and slowly the world started to make sense again. She nodded, accepting Murray's help, before straightening and moving her arm to stand on its own. She stumbled as she suddenly remembered another one of the Helicopter's erratic movements, but that was soon under control.

The police at the park were hidden by three pairs of headlights that illuminated the landing site, so Nashville turned around to see how the rest of their little task force was doing.

South Dakota, her colorful hair clinging to a dark rain jacket as she herself clung to the steady hull of Shangri La. She was only going to be here until the ports had finished unloading and reloading the Tokyo Express convoy, but if they managed to find Trinitite now her rigging's spear would be an invaluable asset. Behind the two capital ships, the lithe, powerful hull of Alaska leaned on the seahawk's Crew Chief. Much like the carrier she would be fighting, the Large Cruiser wasn't particularly durable, but she had the power to match the Abyssal blow-For-blow.

Seeing all this power made Nashville feel a little… underwhelming. Sure, in a gun battle she'd beat the Wo-class every time, but unless she felt like transferring to the Space Force Nashville wasn't going to be using her guns on land any time soon. Hopefully the MCMAP techniques she'd been occasionally studying would offset the power difference, but she wasn't too confident.

A figure stepped in front of one of the police car's lights, then a second. As they approached and Nashville recovered more from the light, the silhouettes resolved into a uniformed man and woman.

"Lieutenant Commander Murray, I presume?" The woman shouted as she approached, her voice masked by the helicopter behind them. In response, the Spook broke away from the group, Nashville belatedly trailing him.

"That would be me." Murray finally replied once they had put some distance between them and the still-running seahawk. He cocked his head towards the taller figure. "Is he Officer Bevan?"

Closer in, she could make out the faces of the two police officers. Both nodded, but the shorter officer spoke up first.

"Yes. I'm Sargent Kelsey Ho, and with me is the officer who'd made the… encounter." She turned her attention to the rest of the small fleet. "Are these the Feds who were also coming?"

Nashville wasn't sure how anyone could mistake South Dakota as anyone but a shipgirl, even in civilian clothing, and Alaska and Shangri La didn't exactly have average hair colors, but she guessed her hair was normal enough, and between the heavy rain, the darkness, and the civilian clothing the shipgirls were wearing it probably wasn't that easy to identify them.

"Unfortunately, they're still driving here." Murray reported, waving to Nashville. "My colleagues are shipgirls, in case we really are dealing with an abyssal."

"I've seen the bodycam footage, sir." The Sergeant dryly reported. "The suspect couldn't have been much else."

Nashville tried to suppress her surprise. They caught Trinitite on camera? Just how many people knew about her now?

"Well, in that case, we should deploy there as soon as possible." Murray reported grimly. "I'll interview Officer Beven on the specifics on the drive over." The Spook's face was well-lit by the headlights, so Nashville managed to recognize the inspiration that suddenly crept into his expression. "Shangri La."

"Sir?" The Carrier queried, caught off guard by the sudden attention. Murray motioned to the landed Helicopter.

"Think you can search for her from the air?"

What? How were you supposed to search for anything in this weather?

"Of course!" There was hardly any hesitation from the insane carrier. With a salute, she turned, jogging back towards the death trap. Nashville had to snap her slack jaw shut, forcing herself to put on a stoic front for the police.

"The rest of us will follow your lead, Sergeant."

"Right, follow me." The sergeant confidently pivoted and started walking back to the police vehicles, while the… survivor, she guessed, was a little more hesitant. "It took a while for him to convince us that he'd run into an abyssal, so I'll admit there was a delay before we established a cordon around the area. You warships will probably have a boring night, but I appreciate the gesture."

"If there's an abyssal in there," Murray started, continuing his false skepticism, "I'm sure we'll all be glad we brought them."

As the group distanced themselves from the helicopter more and it started to rise back into the storm above, the wind around the group dropped. A lot. Nashville noticed the trees surrounding the park were remarkably still, considering how terrible the flight had been.

Damn, this was hardly a storm at all, was it? Was the helicopter just exceptionally bad at flying in poor weather, or was Nashville far too sensitive when it came to flying?

How must it have looked to the police when their best hope against the abyssals stumbled out of their ride like a gaggle of hungover sorority girls?

"She was... right through here." Officer Bevan pointed through the underbrush. The policeman's voice shook as he stood to the side, allowing the shipgirls to go first in case the abyssal was lurking in the clearing, ready to pounce. A pretty silly thought, but Nashville guessed he was shaken enough to not realize that. Instead of one of the shipgirls taking point, however, Lieutenant Commander Murray passed the police officer, his generally unassuming figure feeling much more imposing as he passed the taller and younger officer.

Nashville followed him into the small clearing, and of course, there wasn't a pair of glowing lights looking back at her. Nashville frankly doubted that anyone else would see the skittish Wo today. In the morning darkness, their flashlights danced around the clearing, highlighting the partially-blocked rain and a collection of… cooking supplies?

"Looks like she left in a hurry." Murray commented, his flashlight settling on a strange, white object. Only by getting closer did she recognize it as a bag of sugar, the labels on the soggy paper blurred and the contents reduced to slowly spreading sludge. Why the abyssal was working with sugar in the first place was beyond her, but all the clues she needed were probably on the stove next to her.

Murray's attention turned to the stove at about the same time Nashville did, their flashlights snapping over to the camping gear in rough unison.

"Officer Bevan?" Murray asked, his flashlight reflecting off the thin layer of water lining the bottom of a dirty pot.

"Yeah?" He asked. He'd entered the clearing well after the shipgirls had, his flashlight's focus set as wide as possible to provide some ambient lighting.

"Think you can get a tarp to protect this stove? I don't want the rain to wash everything away before investigators get here."

"Of course!" He nodded, but hesitated at the edge of the clearing. When he did slip out, Nashville couldn't help but notice him turn his flashlight off as he left.

"Looks like it ran this way." Alaska spoke up, the pink-haired cruiser's flashlight dancing over the shattered remains of a bush. "She really was in a hurry."

"Alright, you two follow that." Murray concluded. "The trail's…" His flashlight swung to the other side of the clearing, where Officer Bevan had just been. "...Exactly opposite of your officer's exit point." Nodding at the shorter police sergeant that was with them, the Spook continued. "If it helps, I think our friend was just as scared of Martin as he was of her."

"He might find that funny," Sargent Ho admitted, "in a few weeks."

"It doesn't tell us where she ran, though…" He pondered, before taking his phone out. "Nashville, you think she'd run into the wilderness northwest, or the city south of here?"

The light cruiser exhaled, not happy the decision had been thrust upon her, but she guessed it was nice her commander valued her opinion on this.

"Well…" She was going to mention how much progress Trinitite had made in the Olympic peninsula, but remembering the civilian with them, decided against it. "...She might be a bit too shaken to stick around civilization…"

"Emphasis on 'might,' right?" Murray added, and Nashville nodded. If they knew as much about Trinitite as they did now when she hijacked the Pacific Lilly, then things might have gone differently, but there still were a million unknowns surrounding the enigmatic Abyssal. As he reached into a pocket in his uniform and fished out his phone. "Well, it would make sense. I'm going to order Shangri-La to direct the helo northeast, then swing south and search there."

Texting orders to someone felt… wrong, for some reason, but Nashville couldn't think of a solid objection. Could the company that managed those messages read them? Murray wasn't concerned, it seemed, as he pocketed his phone and returned his attention to the abandoned stove. The Police Sergeant joined them around the abandoned cookware, a second of silence hanging above them.

"Well..." Murray started, crouching to study the pot closer. "...she has a sweet tooth."

Nashville leaned in to study the mud-colored liquid at the bottom of the pot, before abruptly remembering the waterlogged bag of sugar a few feet away. "Know what that is?"

"No-bake cookies. It's a pretty simple dessert recipe." He recited, reaching for a dry crumb clinging to the side of the pot, before apparently thinking better of it and standing. "One of the first I learned, actually."

"You can cook?" Nashville asked. It was one of those things she'd wanted to get into, but hadn't found the time or energy for yet. It was a shame, because she doubted she'd be able to find any ceviche here in The States…

"I dabble." Her commander dismissed the question, looking to the police officer. "Now, do you think whatever forensics team we bring in will be able to figure out where she got this?"

"It should be possible." The Sergeant admitted. "Although it would require more detective work than forensics."

"I see." Murray nodded. "Either way, once we get the tarp over this, I don't want anyone else to get involved until the FBI arrives.

Sergeant Ho looked like she'd been hit, looking up at Murray with her jaw agape.

"Excuse me?"

"Ma'am, you deal with criminals, and I deal with combatants. This..." He motioned towards the discarded camping stove. "...is an espionage issue. My people are looking for her right now, but once the FBI gets here, they get control over who's involved and how this information spreads."

There was a pause as the police officer parsed Murray's rationale. Nashville knew that Murray's reasoning was hollow, especially since he was in charge of the investigation, but she guessed their normal way of suppressing knowledge of Trinitite wouldn't work here. The Mill Creek Police Department was probably less trustworthy than the 7th infantry division, but the bodycam footage ensured that they couldn't publically dismiss it as a case of mistaken identity. They could slap NDAs in everyone's faces, but again the department was too large for that method. Like with the video on the internet, it was better to downplay the damage instead of cracking down, she guessed.

"Look," Murray continued. In the harsh light from the flashlights, his face was obscured by shadow. "There's plenty of additional factors, such as the possibility of-"

"I understand, Lieutenant Commander." The policewoman interrupted, acid creeping into her tone. "We'll stay quiet."

"That's good, Sergeant." Murray nodded. They probably wouldn't, Nashville knew Murray well enough to tell he was thinking the same thing, but as long as the video evidence didn't leak and things stayed as rumors, a panic would be avoided. "Nashville, I'll see if we can commandeer the FBI's car once they arrive. Maybe we can catch her along a road if we drive around for a bit."

"We've got plenty of interceptors." The Sergeant interjected. "I'm not going to let you borrow one wholesale, but I can get you a driver, no issue."

"That'll work just as well." Murray nodded. He suddenly shrugged, zipping his raincoat open and holding it over the stove to keep it dry. In the silence that followed, Nashville's thoughts drifted away from the incident.

Really, Murray cooked? The Light Cruiser was suddenly struck by the ridiculous mental image of the Spook huddled over this thing, dutifully stirring a pot of sweets with the same stoic expression he always wore.

She snorted. Maybe he could throw something together that would lure Trinitite out.

Alright, we're nearing the home stretch for this arc! Which is great, considering I don't have much time to wrap it up before I'm sent to boot camp, and obviously won't be able to work on this fic for a while.

One of the larger mistakes or missed opportunities I think I've made when writing this fic relates to Murray. He probably should be one of the most relatable characters in this fic, even as the primary antagonist (I guess?), but my decision to not have any segments from his point of view and using Nashville as his Watson might only have made him dethatched an uninteresting. Katie is one such attempt at making him a bit more interesting, but at the end of the day that's an external way to look at him, and definitely a terrible strategy if I rely on that on it's own. Since Murray's getting used to Nashville I think I'm trying to write him as more of a unique character, instead of being 'generic navy man' that I sometimes feel he's coming off as.

I think I have the groundwork for an interesting character, but have failed to show that so far. We'll see if I can without having him take up too much of the spotlight.